Heads We Will, Tails We'll Try Again
by JacksAreWild
Summary: Companion pieces to "Why Don't You and I?" The further adventures of Samantha Shepard and Jeff "Joker" Moreau. Inspired by LJ prompts - each chapter is under 1000 words. Will be updated sporadically.
1. Talent

**Talent **

"Can't you do that someplace else?" Joker scowled. The Normandy might be Shepard's ship, but the cockpit was his domain.

"Probably. I come for the quiet, but stay for the welcoming atmosphere." The commander smiled, winningly. It was hard to find a peaceful spot to work on the SR-1, but the temperamental pilot kept most visitors at bay. Irritating him with her presence was just an additional bonus.

"Hmph."

They sat in silence for a while, as Shepard hunched over her datapad. Joker shot her a look from the corner of his eye, but she seemed engrossed in her work. Her hair shrouded her profile as she read, and she fidgeted constantly – her fingers drumming the armrest, her leg bouncing up and down. He found it annoying, just like her intrusiveness. Speaking of which…

He cleared his throat, but she didn't look up. "About earlier…" he started, tentatively.

Shepard lowered the datapad and gave the pilot her full attention. "What about it?"

"I, uh…I didn't mean to snap at you. I just thought that you'd already read my file, you know?"

"I haven't had time to look over personnel files yet. I wasn't expecting to take over for Anderson. But it wasn't my intention to pry into your personal life, so I apologize for that." She met his gaze evenly.

"Oh. Well, okay. Thanks." He felt himself start to squirm under her scrutiny.

"The captain considered you the most talented pilot for this assignment, and I have no reason to doubt his judgment. From everything I've seen so far, his faith was not misplaced. I want you on my team, Lieutenant, as long as you want to be here?"

"Uh, yes, ma'am! Yes, I do."

"Good. Then I think we're going to get along just fine. Now, if you don't mind…I really need to finish this mission report."

"Sure. Sorry." He thought he saw the corner of her mouth quirk up before she bowed her head again, but he couldn't be sure. He turned back to the controls, unaware of the pleased smile that graced his own lips.

But Shepard didn't miss his satisfied smirk, and she grinned inwardly. She had a feeling that she'd just earned herself permanent admittance into the cantankerous helmsman's territory. Maybe one day they'd even learn to enjoy each other's company. Or, maybe not.


	2. Memory

**Memory **

"Hey, Shepard? We seem to have a bit of a zombie problem here."

"Yeah, well, we have a bit of a killer-plant problem here. Think you can deal with this one on your own?"

Her pilot's long-suffering sigh was almost drowned out as she pumped the shotgun and blew another creeper creature into green goo. "I suppose."

"I'm not asking you to arm-wrestle with them, Moreau." When had she become Shepard, and he become Moreau? _Right around the time we realized that sentient machines are trying to destroy the galaxy, and vindictive vegetation is controlling the entire population of a human colony, _she mused. "Keep the doors locked. You'll be fine."

"They're scratching the paint."

"We'll get it touched up the next time we're in port." She ratcheted her weapon and fired another blast. The mindless banter should have been distracting, but it wasn't. It occupied the conscious level of her brain, allowing the muscle memory and instincts to rise to the forefront. Of course, she'd never realized this before she'd had a wise-ass pilot nattering on in her ear incessantly. But, surprisingly, it kind of worked for her.

"Can we get racing stripes?" he inquired as she spotted a creeper closing in on Garrus, maybe 100 yards away. She spun, drawing her pistol, and the back of its head exploded. The turian gave her a nod of acknowledgment.

"Whatever you want, L.T."

"Gee, thanks, Commander. Ya know, a lot of guys are intimidated by a woman who wields heavy artillery, but you're okay in my book."

He heard her snort through the comm. "Kaidan doesn't seem to mind my big guns," she rejoined, and Joker thought, _Oh, shit_, as he glanced over to the copilot's seat, where Alenko was currently blushing a deep red. Joker supposed that he should have warned Shepard that the cockpit speakers were on, but he'd been childishly attempting to prove to Kaidan that he and the commander shared the same easy rapport that she had with the rest of the team. And now, it had sort of blown up in his face.

Interpreting the long pause, Shepard said, "He's sitting right there, isn't he?"

"Uh…yes, ma'am."

"Sorry, Kaidan. I was merely implying that you appreciated my choice of weaponry – nothing more."

"Of course, ma'am."

"Take me off speaker, Joker," she ordered. _Uh-oh._

He did as she requested as Alenko slunk from the cockpit. "It's safe, Commander."

"You're going to pay for that," she informed him, and was it his imagination, or did he hear amusement lurking under the rebuke?

"So…no racing stripes?"

She snorted again. Such an unladylike sound, yet it was oddly endearing. "Oh, it's gonna be much worse than that. Shepard out."

He clicked off the comm and sank back into his chair with a smirk. Although he could envision several ways that he would enjoy being punished by the commander, he doubted that she had any of those more agreeable alternatives in mind. He was certain that her retribution would swift and unpleasant, but it had almost been worth it to see the embarrassed look on Alenko's face. He went back to reviewing reports, humming happily, as the zombies continued to pound on the hull of the ship.


	3. Strength

**Strength**

Joker eyed Shepard, who was diligently hunched over a datapad in the copilot's seat. She seemed engrossed in her work, but he was bored. Flying the ship was 90% routine interspersed with 10% death-defying skill, but he would never admit that to anyone, especially the commander. She was under the impression that piloting took tons of talent, and he had no desire to disabuse her of that notion. Still, there was that boredom issue…

"Hey, Shepard."

"Hey, Joker," she replied, without looking up.

"Don't you know it's rude not to look at people when they're talking to you?"

With an exaggerated sigh, she slowly and deliberately raised her gaze to regard him, impatiently. She really did have beautiful eyes. But that was beside the point, he reminded himself, firmly.

"What do you need?"

"I have a very important question to ask." He paused, dramatically. "If you could have any super power, what would it be?"

Shepard fought to keep her expression and tone neutral as she replied, "How about the ability to make my pilot shut the hell up for five minutes so that I could finish my report?"

"Ambitious." He nodded, approvingly. "Many have tried; none have succeeded. I would think that it would have limited applications, however."

"I don't know. Right about now, it seems like it would be plenty useful."

"Fair enough." Shepard saw the pilot watching her hopefully, so she heaved another sigh, and said, "So, what super power would you want, Joker?"

Without hesitating, he replied, "X-ray vision."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Hey, is it my fault you usually wear way too much armor?" He stared meaningfully at her legs which, at the moment, were clad only in running shorts that exposed a distracting amount of skin. Her legs were long, and lean, and extremely toned. And Joker currently had an excellent view of them as they were tossed over the arm rest of the seat as she reclined in her usual sideways position.

When Shepard merely continued to observe him thoughtfully, he asked, uncomfortably, "What?"

"Nothing. Just trying to figure out why you spend so much time and energy trying to convince me that you're a sexist pig when I know that you're not."

He blushed and glanced away. "Sure I am."

"Okay." She shrugged and turned back to her task. The cockpit was silent for a while, and then he said, quietly, "I don't just admire your legs because they're nice to look at, although they are. They're also powerful, and functional." He paused. "I imagine that it must be nice to have that kind of strength."

Now it was Shepard's turn to hesitate. She'd instigated this honesty, so she supposed that she owed him some in return. "Do you know why I come up here to do my reports?"

Joker was taken aback by the apparent non sequitur. "Please don't tell me it's not because of my dashing good looks and sparkling personality, or I fear I might be crushed beyond repair."

Shepard smiled, crookedly. "Well, besides that, of course."

"Why?"

"The most education I completed was one year of high school. When I enlisted, I was meant to be cannon fodder, and the truth is, there was no one who would have mourned me. Not looking for pity – it's just the truth. But I was too damn stubborn to die, and somehow, I ended up in charge. And being in charge means writing reports, which for me, is a painstaking process. It requires a quiet environment, and a lot of focus. This, what you do," she said, waving her arm to encompass the cockpit and its myriad displays, "I could never do this. Granted, what makes you a great pilot is instinct, but you also have a lot of technical knowledge. All I need to know is point, and shoot."

Joker pondered her words, surprised and touched that she was confiding in him this way. "You're not stupid, Shepard."

"Maybe not, but I'm ignorant and uneducated. That's almost as bad."

"No," he argued. "If you were stupid, you _couldn't_ learn. But you learn stuff every day, on every mission. You're constantly improving as a leader. I've seen it myself."

Now Shepard was the one who was moved as she considered her pilot. She was flattered that he'd noticed - that he'd cared enough to notice. "And just because your legs don't always work right doesn't mean that you're not strong, because you're one of the toughest people I know, Joker. And I've seen _that_ for myself."

After a long moment, Joker cleared his throat, embarrassed by the compliment. "I still think x-ray vision would be cool."

"And I still think getting you to be quiet for five minutes would be nice," Shepard retorted with a grin.

"Well, I guess we're both out of luck, huh, Commander?" he joked as they both cheerfully returned to their respective chores.


	4. Dance

**Dance**

"Is there anything more boring than scanning planets?" Shepard groused, irritably.

"Watching someone else scan planets?" Joker suggested, glancing over at her. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she stared at the readout display. "And listening to them complain about it?"

"Whatever."

"All right, then, let's play a game. How about a little 'Truth or Dare?'"

Shepard eyed him, skeptically. She knew the pilot well enough by now to realize that he always had an ulterior motive for these apparent acts of kindness.

"Is any kind of dare going to involve me removing clothing?"

"It's quite likely," he admitted.

"Okay, truth, then. But," she interrupted, before he could begin, "any question you ask, you have to answer yourself."

"That's not how the game is played, Shepard," he protested.

"No, but it's the only way I can think of to keep you somewhat in line. If you ask, you have to answer. Those are my terms."

He considered, briefly, and then said, "Fine."

"Fine. You can go first." A soft beeping came from the scanner and she pressed the button to launch a probe.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Blue. Yours?"

"Red. What's your favorite food?"

"Chocolate."

"Mine's pizza. Favorite alcoholic drink?"

"Rum and coke. Lemme guess – you're a beer guy."

"Am I really so transparent, Commander?"

"Let's just say I can't see you doing the whole swish and spit bit with a fancy wine."

"Waste of good alcohol, that. Your favorite type of music?"

"Rock."

"I like jazz, myself."

Shepard gawked at him in disbelief. "Jazz?"

"Is that really so shocking?"

"I don't know. It seems so…cultured."

"And I'm not cultured?"

"I didn't say that."

"Mmm. Okay, just for that..." He paused, dramatically. "Your first kiss?"

Shepard hesitated, shooting another probe toward the planet's surface. "Sixth grade. Chris Warner. He ran up to me on the playground and kissed me. I punched him in the nose."

Joker laughed. "Well, that explains your current lack of a love life."

"According to who?" Shepard asked with mock indignity.

"What? Are you telling me there's a Mr. Shepard stashed away somewhere, taking care of a flock of mini-Shepards?"

"And your first kiss?" she prodded, pointedly ignoring his inquiry.

"Eighth grade. Melissa Schumaker. We went to the holiday dance together. When my dad drove us to her house to drop her off, I walked her to the door. I was so nervous, it was more like a hit-and-run than a kiss." Shepard chuckled at the image. "The next day at school, she wouldn't even talk to me, so I guess it wasn't any more impressive than it seemed."

"Awww."

"But I'm much better now," he assured her. "I can demonstrate, if you'd like."

"That's okay. I'll take your word for it."

"Your loss." He shrugged. "Oh, I have one! What do you wear to bed? Pajamas? Lingerie? Wait, I know – you sleep naked! Am I right?"

Shepard turned off the scanner and stood, stretching cramped muscles. "Good night, Joker. Thanks for the entertainment, as always."

"Wait! Don't you want to know what I wear to bed?"

"Not really."

"That's okay. I wasn't going to tell you, anyway. There's only one way a person can gather that information. But I'd be willing to offer you the opportunity to find out!" Joker called after her as she exited the cockpit.

Shepard shook her head as the pilot's shouted taunt garnered her curious glances from the crew stationed along the bridge. "Good night, Joker!" she replied, firmly, staring straight ahead and fighting back a grin of amusement.

"Your loss," he repeated to the now-empty room, as he returned to his interrupted troubleshooting session of the ship's navigational system. The damn thing kept sending them 5,000K off course, or more, after every relay jump, and he had no idea why. It was threatening to tarnish his reputation for perfection. "Naked," he confirmed, nodding absently to himself as he worked. "She definitely sleeps naked."


	5. Cold

**Cold**

Shepard entered the cockpit and slid into the copilot's seat with a sigh. Glancing over, Joker did a double-take at her outfit. She wore oversized navy-blue N7 sweatpants, rolled to the tops of her boots, and a matching sweatshirt that covered her to mid-thigh. It was obvious from the size that the sweats had not originally belonged to her, and he immediately squashed any and all speculation about their origin – _typical jarhead, no doubt; strong, swarthy and stupid_.

"Nice duds," he remarked.

"Cold," she mumbled through chattering teeth, and only then did he realize she was shivering violently. "Ever since Noveria…can't get warm."

The truth about the sweats was that they had belonged to one of Shepard's instructors in "N-School," as the recruits called it. Perhaps not surprisingly, Shepard had a thing for father figures - having never had an actual father - and Major Noonan had fit the bill perfectly. He was maybe ten years older than she – dark hair, blue eyes, marine-fit body. They'd locked eyes on the first day, and she'd known that she was going to enjoy him. Not wanting to risk even the appearance of impropriety, she hadn't gone to him until after the training had been completed. She'd donned his sweats the morning after, and shipped out that same evening without ever getting the opportunity to return them. She hadn't thought about Noonan in years, and rarely even associated the clothing with him, anymore.

Joker glanced at the readings. "It's 22 degrees in here, just like always, Commander."

"Hate the cold," she muttered. Shepard wasn't oblivious...she understood that her reaction was primarily psychological. Her hard suit was insulated and had sheltered her from the harshest of the elements on the frigid planet. And as the pilot had just pointed out, the ship was the same temperature it always was. But just seeing all the ice and snow had taken her back to a childhood filled with winters in institutions, foster homes, and eventually, abandoned buildings, where it was never, ever warm enough. And her body unconsciously reacted to the faulty mental cues her brain sent it.

"Why is that blinking?" she asked suddenly, pointing a shaking finger at a display on the console that had caught her eye, and Joker hissed, "Don't touch anything!" as he reached out to block her advance. When their hands met, her fingers fluttered against his like caged birds.

"Jesus, Shep," he murmured, instinctively wrapping his hand around hers. Shepard stilled as her gaze zeroed in on their joined grip. Joker had such long and graceful fingers. She knew that they were delicate, but they never appeared that way as they flew over the ship's controls. She'd often watched him work and idly wondered what those fingers would feel like dancing over her skin.

Joker could feel the tremors travelling down her arm as she continued to shiver. A vision gripped him, suddenly – _with a gentle tug, he pulled Shepard onto his lap, his arms enveloping her in warmth. She clung to him until her trembling subsided, and then she tilted her head up, pinning him with those emerald eyes. As he lowered his head, her lips parted..._

With a mental shake, he dismissed the image and dropped Shepard's hand, abruptly. Thinking about his CO like that was wildly inappropriate and disrespectful. Not to mention self-destructive.

Shepard's own musings were interrupted when Joker suddenly released his hold on her. "I guess you really do have ice water in your veins, huh, Commander?" he managed, clearing his throat.

"That's the rumor," she confirmed with an upward twitch of the lips.

"So, what do you have against the cold, anyway?" Joker asked, hoping to dispel the tension that had recently invaded the cockpit.

Grateful for the distraction from her own imprudent reflections, Shepard explained, "Where I grew up, it used to get extremely cold...and windy. It would make your eyes water and the snot inside your nose freeze."

"Ugh. That sounds unpleasant."

"It was."

"Well, I grew up on a space station, and I've spent most of my life on ships. So, temperature has rarely been of much concern."

"Have you never seen snow?"

"Nope."

"Huh."

"Cold, wet and slippery can make it challenging to get around. Plus, you don't make it sound like I'm missing much."

"The weather can be brutal if you're not equipped for it," she agreed. Her gaze grew distant as she drifted into childhood recollections. "But the hush of a snowfall at night, the pristine whiteness when it first blankets the ground; or a summer shower, as the steam rises from the pavement and the smell of fresh grass fills the air…everyone should experience it at least once. Maybe I could show you sometime," she said, refocusing on him, the words slipping out before she could fully consider them.

"I'd like that," Joker responded, just as blithely, surprised to find that the sentiment was sincere. They regarded each other in shocked, silent amusement for a moment, contemplating the exchange, and all that it implied; specifically, an enduring relationship that might someday extend beyond the confines of the Normandy.

"Okay. Well, see ya later," Shepard said, climbing to her feet. Only then did she realize that her shivering had abated, along with the chill that had been her constant companion since earlier that day.

"'Later," Joker replied, turning his attention back to the instrument panel. Shepard paused for just a heartbeat in the cockpit's entry, watching him navigate the ship. _Those fingers_. She shook her head with an impish grin and turned away, never noticing when the pilot snuck a surreptitious backward glance of his own.

* * *

**A/N: **_Thanks to jay8008 for his input on this one. Any parts that still suck are the fault of the author._


	6. Fall

**Fall**

Of course, it had to happen in the worst possible place, at the worst possible time.

Breakfast time in the mess, and staff were jockeying for position in line and the limited spaces to sit. Joker was making his way from the crew quarters and had just cleared the wall framing the elevator shaft when he fell.

He hit the floor with an impressive thud, if he did say so himself, and pain shot up his right forearm as he heard his ulna snap.

Shepard had been standing in line, chatting with Garrus, when she heard the thump. "Jeff!" she cried, rushing to his side, taking no notice of the glances the crew exchanged at her casual use of the pilot's first name. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he grimaced, rising to a kneeling position, clutching his broken arm to his chest.

"Did somebody spill something _again_? Stevens!" she barked to one of the sergeants who was standing around, gawking. "There's something on this floor. Grab a mop and clean it up!"

"Shepard! Stop it!" he hissed, and she turned back to him, shocked by his harsh tone. "It's not the floor. I tripped over my own fucking feet. It happens. Okay?" This was partially true. It did happen, but usually only when he was overtired or had in some other way pushed himself beyond his limits. His legs had just chosen this particularly inconvenient moment to say _fuck you_ and stop responding to the messages coming from his brain.

Shepard recoiled from his anger, stung by his words. She'd seen him stumble, and had immediately assumed the usual cause - an external hazard_._ And in doing so, she'd unintentionally embarrassed him even further. "Okay," she whispered, chastised, and he was both relieved and ashamed to see hurt replace some of the worry in her eyes. "Can you stand?" He felt a cool, strong hand at the small of his back, and she extended her other arm for him to grasp, rather than trying to yank or pull him. Grudgingly, he accepted her assistance and struggled upright.

Kaidan materialized, and helped Shepard usher Joker the few steps into the medbay, where Chakwas was waiting. The doctor went to work with her usual efficiency, and after another cautious glance at his glowering visage, Shepard took the hint and reluctantly departed. Joker observed her now, through the shaded windows, as she hovered anxiously around the mess. And he couldn't help but notice Kaidan watching her, as well.

"You falling for the commander, Alenko?" he needled, partly to distract himself from the pain, and partly because he was in a malicious mood.

But the biotic's placid demeanor never changed, nor did he tear his eyes away from Shepard. "Of course not. That would be careless of me, Lieutenant. There's only one way to fall for a woman like that, and that's hard."

Joker's eyes drifted back to the window as he watched Shepard's concerned gaze rake over the medbay's privacy screens. He thought about the worried way she'd called his name; her supportive hand on his spine; her steadfast equanimity in the face of his rage...the way that he looked forward to her visits to the cockpit; the confidences they'd shared; the easy comraderie they'd developed. _Yeah_, he thought, feeling the weight of resignation settle upon him as he recognized the truth of Alenko's words, _only one way to fall._


	7. Whisper

**Whisper**

Joker was coming out of the medbay when he spotted Shepard and Alenko seated in the mess. It'd been two weeks since his accident, and he hadn't seen much of the commander during that time. Admittedly, it was his fault, since he'd been alternately surly and silent during her recent visits, until he'd finally succeeded in driving her away, entirely. That hadn't been his intention, but he'd needed some time to mull over his epiphany in the medbay. He'd come to the conclusion that Shepard was his CO; and, on a good day, maybe even his friend. Whatever else he was feeling was reckless and irrelevant. Seeing her now, he also realized that he'd missed her company. Maybe it was time to clear the air.

Joker loitered in the shadows for a moment, observing her with the lieutenant. Despite Kaidan's protestations to the contrary, it was clear that the biotic was becoming increasingly infatuated with the commander. How Shepard felt about his attentions was far less obvious. Perhaps it was merely Joker's imagination, but she seemed to employ a polite cautiousness around Kaidan, as if she sensed that she could never fully let her guard down around him.

Alliance regulations forbade a commanding officer from becoming romantically involved with a soldier under his or her command. Alenko was a by-the-book marine...even more so than Shepard. If whatever he was feeling was compelling him to consider breaking regs, then it was more than just a simple crush. Joker understood that Kaidan was simultaneously attempting to resist the temptation and gauging Shepard's interest to see how his potential misconduct might be construed. Judging by her reaction thus far, the answer was - _not well_.

Kaidan rose and made a parting remark to Shepard. She smiled, but it was a perfunctory expression, and it fell away as soon as Alenko's back was turned. She watched him retreat, a contemplative look on her face, before her eyes drifted toward Joker. When she saw him, the grin that lit her face caused her green eyes to sparkle, and he had time to think, _I really wish she wouldn't do that, _before he hobbled in her direction.

"Hey," she said, upon his arrival.

"Hey," he responded, lurking uncomfortably across the table.

"The Doc torturing you again?"

"Yeah. She requires her quota of victims. My sacrifice means that the rest of you don't have to suffer."

"We appreciate that."

"As well you should."

She hesitated, then asked warily, "How's the arm?"

A twinge of guilt shot through him at the cautious expression on her face. "Better. Thanks."

Relief replaced trepidation. "Good. I'm glad."

"Listen, Shepard," Joker began, "I wanted to apologize for how I've been acting. I know you were only trying to help, and I was taking things out on you that weren't your fault. That wasn't fair."

"I'm sorry, too. The way I reacted, I obviously just made things worse. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Joker was quiet for a long moment, and then he asked, softly, "Why do you do that?"

Something about his tone of voice made Shepard glance up, and he immediately captured her gaze with his searching one. "What do you mean?"

He leaned over the table, halving the distance between them. Shepard could feel his breath on her face when he demanded in that same hushed tone. "You're always making excuses for my bad behaviour; letting me off the hook when you shouldn't. Why?"

Shepard was flummoxed. His words were accusatory, but once again, she found herself unsure of her crime. Joker's proximity and intensity were causing adrenaline to flood her body, but her voice was steady when she responded, "I wasn't aware that I was doing that."

"People might get the wrong idea."

"And what idea is that?" Her tone had dropped to a husky whisper, unconsciously mimicking his. She was aware of nothing beyond the inches that separated them.

"That you're giving me preferential treatment." Every cell in Joker's brain was screaming at him to abort this conversation. He'd wanted to apologize and restore the equilibrium of their relationship - their _working _relationship. He hadn't expected their discussion to take this trajectory. He wasn't sure if he was challenging her, or flirting with her, but either way, he was aware that he was playing a dangerous game. One that could backfire in the blink of an eye. One that he'd vowed to avoid.

Before Shepard could respond, two sergeants rounded the corner, talking animatedly. Joker straightened and abruptly averted his eyes as the soldiers spotted Shepard and saluted, awkwardly. She dismissed them with a nod as Joker turned to go.

He was already in the elevator when he heard her call, "Joker!"

Briefly, he considered pretending he hadn't heard, but then he jabbed grudgingly at the button to hold the doors open. Shepard trotted over, wedging herself into the doorway. "I'll see you tomorrow in detention?"

'Detention' was what she'd taken to calling her time spent in the cockpit, either writing reports or scanning planets. He understood the meaning of her inquiry at once. She was trying to ascertain if things were okay between them; if she could resume her normal routine.

Joker hesitated only briefly. Despite his misgivings, he said, "Yeah. See you tomorrow."

With a tentative smile, she released the doors. As soon as they closed, he leaned his forehead against the cool metal. So much for putting his personal feelings aside. But thankfully, they'd been interrupted before he'd been able to say or do anything irreversibly stupid. Going forward, he would maintain a friendly, yet professional, association with his CO. He wasn't going to end up playing the fool, like Alenko. No fucking way.


	8. Gravity

**Gravity**

He heard her approaching just a moment too late. By the time he pushed the button to clear the datapad's screen, she was looming over him.

She flopped onto the couch perpendicular to the one he was lounging on. "More porn, Joker?" Her grin was teasing.

"Don't be jealous, Shep. You're still the star in the best of my sexual fantasies." Their banter had slowly been regaining its previously playful tone. Joker was both relieved and a little bit disappointed by this, for reasons he didn't care to explore too deeply.

"Sorry I can't say the same, L.T." She grabbed the pad from his grasp and called up the display. "'Dear Jules,'" she read aloud before he snatched it back. It probably wouldn't be beneficial for him if she scrutinized the content of his message, particularly because a large portion of it may have been about her. "Who's Jules?"

"My sister."

"You have a sister? How come you never told me that?"

"I don't tell you everything, Shepard," he retorted, growing irritated, as he usually did, at her relentless probing.

"Geez, sorry. Who pissed in your cereal this morning?" Without waiting for a response, she pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them like a child waiting for a bedtime story. "So, tell me about your sister."

"No."

"C'mon, Joker! Regale a lonely orphan with tales of your happy home life." Her exaggerated pout and puppy dog eyes pulled a grudging smile from his lips.

"Fine," he capitulated, setting the datapad aside. "Her name's Julia, but I've always called her Jules. She's three years older than me. She's married with two kids, lives on Tiptree. What else do you want to know?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Are you close?"

"We are now, although I don't see her as much as I'd like. When we were young, she didn't want me around much. I got a lot of attention because of the Vrolik's. I think she was probably jealous, and resentful."

"Makes sense."

"Yeah. On the rare occasions when we did hang out, Mom would always make Jules promise to watch out for me. One day, when I was about seven, we were goofing around in my bedroom, and I started jumping on the bed. Jules kept telling me to stop, but I wouldn't listen. I bounced higher and higher, until gravity – being the bitch that she is – eventually reasserted her influence, and I fell off the bed. I suffered an open leg fracture – my tibia was poking right through the skin."

"Ouch," Shepard remarked with a wince.

"It was pretty bad, even by my standards," Joker admitted. "Jules started screaming, and my mom came running in. On the way to the hospital, my mother was yelling at Jules, blaming her for not keeping a closer eye on me. I lied and told her that Jules hadn't even been there - that I had been jumping on the bed alone and she'd heard me fall. I'm not sure that Mom believed me, but she couldn't prove otherwise. Ever since that day, Jules has been very protective of me."

"Because even though you were hurt and in pain, you tried to cover for her."

Joker shrugged, embarrassed. "Yeah, I guess. She tried to stop me. Plus, I was old enough to know better. It was my fault, not hers."

Shepard regarded him in silence for so long that he finally cracked under the scrutiny. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Liar. C'mon, spill."

"Really, it's nothing - I was just thinking that, even as a child, you already had a lot of the same qualities that describe you today. You were loyal, honest, and brave. The same traits that make you a good brother make you a good soldier - and a good friend."

"Thanks, Shep. You're..." Joker began, when a page over the comm interrupted him, summoning Shepard to the CIC. In truth, he was grateful, since he'd really had no idea how he was going to finish that remark._ "Pretty cool yourself?"_ Oh, yeah...that was smooth.

With a sigh, she unfurled her legs and rose, saying, "Thanks for telling me about your family, Joker." Then, to his surprise, she leaned over and gave him a quick buss on the cheek. "Tell Jules I said 'hi'," she instructed with a grin as she strode away. Still a bit nonplussed by her remarks, he turned to watch her go, and she shot back over her shoulder, "And stop staring at my ass!" as she disappeared through the door.

Joker shook his head and pressed his fingers to his face where her lips had grazed his beard. He'd invested a considerable amount of time and effort into encouraging Shepard to see him as smart, witty, talented, and yes, possibly even sexy, with dubious results. Then one silly, insignificant story about sibling rivalry turns her into a sentimental sap. He would never understand women, for as long as he lived. With a sigh, he re-opened the message to his sister. "_Jules – you will never believe what just happened. Explain this to me, will ya?_"


	9. Mask

**Mask**

Joker turned off the faucet and groped blindly outside of the shower for his towel. Snatching it off the hook, he rubbed it briskly across his scalp before wrapping it snugly around his waist. Stepping out of the stall, he looked toward the bench where he'd left his uniform, and froze. It was empty. He hesitated a moment, confused, and then he growled, "God _dammit, _Alenko!" The curse echoed off the walls of the otherwise empty bathroom.

He and the biotic had been involved in an ever-escalating war of practical jokes, culminating with the one Joker had played on Kaidan last week, when he'd applied an offensive shade of pink lipstick to the man's lips while he slept. Upon waking, Alenko had stumbled through the crew quarters and past several snickering female staff in the hallway before he'd happened upon a mirror in the men's room. Since then, he'd apparently been biding his time, plotting his revenge and hoping to lull Joker into a state of complacency. Judging by his current predicament, Kaidan's plan had worked.

The pilot paused, contemplating his options. It was still early - more than an hour before shift change - and breakfast was just getting started. He could probably make it across the hallway without being ogled by the _entire_ crew. It wasn't that Joker was particularly modest – he just felt like an idiot wandering around the SR-1 wearing only a towel. Which was exactly what Alenko had intended, no doubt. Heaving a resigned sigh, he knotted the towel more securely around his hips and headed for the exit.

Shepard stepped out of the elevator onto the crew deck and turned to the right, heading for the mess hall. She was perusing a report on her datapad and had to draw up short to avoid colliding with the form that suddenly materialized in front of her. "Whoa! Sorry!" she said, skidding to a halt and drawing her eyes upward to see a half-naked, dripping wet pilot standing sheepishly in front of her.

"Well, good morning, Lieutenant," she said with a smirk, cocking a hip and letting the arm holding the datapad fall to her side.

"Commander," Joker replied, with as much dignity as he could muster. Alenko was _so _going to pay for this.

Sensing the pilot's discomfort, Shepard blatantly let her eyes drift from his tousled hair to skim over his bare torso. She knew that her actions bordered on sexual harassment, but Joker specialized in harassment of all kinds, and she couldn't resist this opportunity for payback. She allowed her gaze to meander over the width of his shoulders to the hard lines of his chest and the smattering of damp, dark hair curled there. She dropped her sights lower, to where his silhouette tapered to narrow hips and waist, with just a faint line of fuzz leading from his belly button, lower, beneath the towel. She spotted a droplet of moisture trailing downward, and found herself suddenly gripped by the temptation to reach out and trace its path. "_Now would probably be a good time to stop staring at your pilot's crotch," _the rational part of her brain supplied helpfully, but that rivulet seemed to have her mesmerized.

Joker could feel the flush creep up his neck to his cheeks as Shepard continued to deliberately ogle him. He'd assumed that she was merely reveling in his embarrassment, but suddenly, the playful look in her eyes shifted, and she began scrutinizing him the way a ravenous predator sizes up its prey. He heard an audible _click_ as he gulped uneasily, his Adam's apple bobbing. He debated whether or not she was just toying with him. He knew that she saw her share of shirtless men – bulky, muscle-bound soldiers whose physiques were much more impressive than his. On a scale of scrawny to massive, he considered himself about average. He didn't make a habit of parading around half-dressed, but there had been very few occasions in his life when a woman had looked at him so..._hungrily, _when he had. It was both exhilarating and a little unnerving. Especially since they were standing in the hallway of the Normandy, and it was Shepard doing the eyeballing.

The elevator dinged behind Shepard, and Williams emerged. "Nice uniform, Joker," she snorted, and Shepard's eyes darted back up to his face, quickly recovering her usual mask of self-control. But there was a lingering glint in her eyes – something feral – that made a shiver run down his spine. It also caused a sudden rush of heat below his waist that served to jolt him into action.

"I, uh…I should be going," he offered, awkwardly side-stepping around them before heading toward the crew quarters. Both women turned to watch him go, still leering in amusement. Just before he entered the dorm, he added, "And stop staring at my ass!" Shepard's responding laugh trailed him into the room, and he allowed a self-satisfied smile to tug at the corner of his lips as he quickly got dressed. He was amused by the thought that perhaps Shepard's attempt to torment him had backfired in ways she hadn't anticipated.

He encountered Alenko in the CIC on his way to the cockpit. "How was your shower, Joker?" Kaidan asked, his smirk belying his innocent tone. "I owe you one, buddy," Joker responded cheerfully, patting the confused biotic on the shoulder as he passed.


	10. Talk

**Talk**

Space vessels never really slept. They required at least a skeleton crew, around the clock, to monitor and maintain basic systems functions. However, even in space, humans and aliens alike were ruled by internal circadian rhythms. And thus it was that 0300 hours was a less bustling time than, say, 1300 hours. And that was just the way that Joker liked it.

He rose slowly from his chair and stretched carefully. He was stiff after sitting for so long. His symptoms from the Vrolik's had been flaring up again lately, and he grabbed the crutches that were leaning nearby. Doc Chakwas kept telling him he needed to move around more to strengthen his muscles and take the pressure off of his bones, but that was easier said than done on a crowded spaceship when you were in constant fear of being jostled. Besides, he hated the feeling - real or imagined - of everyone's pitying eyes on him as he made his painstaking way across the bridge. This time of night, he could move without fear of interference or observation.

He nodded to Pressley as he passed the navigation console on his way to the cantina. The mess hall was below deck, but this small room - which used to be a storage closet - provided the crew with a coffee station, as well as water and a supply of ration bars. The space was supposed to have motion sensor lights that came on automatically, but they never seemed to function correctly. Or maybe he just moved too slowly for them to detect anything. Either way, he was familiar enough with the layout to make his way by the glow from the various outdated appliances scattered about. He reached the coffee station and found nothing but sludge burned to the bottom of the pot. He swore as he picked it up and turned toward the sink to rinse it out.

"Problem?" came a voice out of the gloom.

"Shit!" Joker cried as he jostled the carafe. He managed to save it, but one crutch slipped from his grasp and crashed to the floor as the lights finally blinked to life.

The commander sat at the tiny table wedged into the corner, squinting in the sudden brightness. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."

"I didn't think anyone was in here," Joker told her as his heart rate slowed from a gallop to a brisk trot.

"Yeah, I kinda gathered that," Shepard replied, dryly. She waved a half-empty bottle of alcohol at him. He couldn't tell what it was from this distance. "Would you rather join me in a drink than have coffee? Oh, wait…are you on duty?"

"Not officially, no."

"How can one be unofficially on duty?"

He shrugged.

"Grab a cup and have a seat," she said, gesturing across the table.

He set the pot of charred brew down in the sink and grabbed a clean mug from the counter. He looked at the crutch on the floor, and then dismissed it. Retrieving it would require more energy than he was willing to expend, at the moment. He made his way to the table and eased into the chair opposite her.

Up close, he saw that she was drinking vodka. She poured a generous amount into his empty cup, then refilled her own. There weren't any mixers on the table. Shepard took a healthy swig.

"So…rough day, huh?" he offered, lamely.

"You could say that."

"I'm sorry about Alenko." _Sorry_ didn't seem sufficient to convey what he was feeling, but he couldn't think of a better word.

Her only response was another gulp of her drink. "So…talk to me, Joker."

He waited, but she didn't continue. "What?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"Talk to you about what?"

"Anything." She brandished the mug of vodka wildly; some sloshed over the rim. "I like the sound of your voice."

"Really?" She'd never mentioned that before.

"Yeah. You're always there, on the other end of the comm. It's comforting." Unlike her normally rapid, clipped speech, tonight her consonants had soft edges and the words snuggled up against each other like puppies in a litter. "Although, you're usually telling me I'm about to die in, like, 5.6 seconds, so I don't know why I find that comforting. You're like…the voice of God. Or doom. Or something."

"Commander, I think you might be a little tipsy." Tipsy was putting it nicely. Joker was quite sure that she was completely snockered.

"Call me Sam." At the horrified look on his face, she snorted vodka out of her nose. It burned her nasal passages, and she made a mental note to try not to do that again. "Okay, scratch that. I guess we'll stick with Shepard."

The lights chose that moment to extinguish themselves, shrouding them in blackness. For a long while, neither of them moved or spoke, and the only sound was that of their breathing. Then Shepard whispered, "I fucked up today, Jeff. I fucked up, and this time, there's no making it right." Before Joker could even begin to conceive of a comforting response to that, he heard her chair scrape along the floor as she stood. Her boots squeaked as she trudged to the door, but the room remained dark.

When the door swished open, the lights grudgingly flickered on once more, but by the time he twisted around in his seat, she'd disappeared without another word.

"It'll be okay…Sam," he said softly, to the empty room, before downing the rest of the vodka.


	11. Promise

**Promise**

Joker sat in the cockpit, stewing. Locked out of his own ship. This wasn't right. He was pissed off, but he was also indignant on Shepard's behalf. After everything they'd done, after the hellish way that things had gone down on Virmire, now the Council was going to turn their collective backs on her? He'd seen her slumped shoulders when she'd returned to the ship with the news of their grounding. She didn't deserve this.

She was meeting with Anderson now. Maybe the captain would be able to make things right. He was startled from his ruminations when Shepard burst through the airlock and into the cockpit.

"Joker, we're about to steal the Normandy!" Her eyes shone with fear and excitement, and she vibrated with anticipation.

He gaped up at her, astonished. "What?"

"Anderson is going to cut us loose. We have to be ready to go as soon as it happens." Shepard couldn't quite believe that she was going to do this. She couldn't just let Saren win, but it was difficult to accept that the situation had deteriorated to this extent. She regarded her bewildered pilot, her enthusiasm dimming slightly. "Are you okay with this?"

"Are you kidding me? Grand theft frigate? Hell yeah!"

"Jeff," she said, hoping to convey the solemnity of what she was about to say by using his given name, "this is serious shit. Could mean a court-martial, dishonorable discharge…maybe even time in the brig. The others, they have the option to bail out, but I don't want you to feel obligated just because you're the only one who can fly this baby." The flattery was sincere, yet calculated, and she searched his face carefully for signs of reluctance.

"Shepard," he said, matching her sober tone, "I'm with you, all the way." He was only mildly surprised to find that he meant it. He'd always had his own unique code of ethics. He was loyal to the Normandy; less so, to the Alliance. But somewhere along the way, he'd become most committed to the commander. He respected her, and, more importantly, he trusted her. He was fully prepared to follow her anywhere, regardless of the consequences.

Relief flooded through her at his words. "I promise I won't let you down."

He experienced a rush of pride, seeing her grateful smile. "I know you won't." They both turned their gazes to the console, which remained inactive. "How, exactly, is Anderson going to spring us?"

"Uh…it might be better if you don't know that."

"Right." A few more long minutes passed, and they exchanged a glance.

"He's going to come through," she said, managing to keep the majority of the doubt from her voice, which Joker admired. She'd no sooner finished speaking than the board flashed green.

"That's it. Hang on, we're going!" he whooped, immediately moving to release the docking clamps.

"Yes!" she crowed, triumphantly. "You better watch your ass, Saren, 'cause we're coming for you!" She playfully smushed his cap down over his eyes, eliciting a bleat of protest. "Warp speed ahead, Mr. Sulu!"

Joker let out a bark of surprised laughter at her exuberance. Oh, yeah…this was where he belonged. No doubt about that. "Aye, aye, Captain," he replied, delightedly, as they absconded with the most expensive and advanced ship in the Alliance's fleet.


	12. Search

**Search**

Shepard's crew was giving her a headache.

All she'd said to incite the bedlam was, "Take us in, Joker. Lock in on the coordinates."

"Negative on that, Commander. The nearest drop zone is two clicks away," Pressley informed her.

"We'll never make it on time on foot. Search again. Get us something closer!" Ashley demanded while Shepard wondered who had put the chief in charge.

"There is nowhere closer! I've looked!" Pressley snapped. "You need at least 100 meters of open terrain to pull off a drop like that. The most I can find near the LZ is 20."

"No way we can make a drop in there," Ashley said.

"We have to try!" Liara argued.

"The descent angle's too steep," Tali chimed in. Even the usually taciturn quarian was caught up in the verbal fray.

"It's our only option," Liara retorted as Shepard rubbed her forehead. She wished they would all just shut up and let her think.

Abruptly, from the pilot's chair, she heard, "I can do it." Joker's voice was barely audible above the din.

Her eyes fastened on his as the argument raged around them. "Joker?"

"I can do it." As she had before their felony on the Citadel, she searched his face for traces of doubt, but saw none. The maneuver he was suggesting would be described by most as impossible. Yet he was asking her to trust him - not only with her life, but with the fate of the galaxy. His expectant expression conveyed that he felt that he'd earned that trust, and she was in no position to argue.

"Okay," she declared loudly, silencing the bickering. "Everybody, suit up and head down to the Mako." As her team filed out, suddenly struck speechless, she placed her hand on the pilot's shoulder. "Drop us right on top of that bastard."

"Aye, aye, Commander," he replied with his typical cocky smirk. She nodded in acknowledgment as she strode from the cockpit.

Fifteen minutes later, the Mako bounced to a stop squarely in the middle of the LZ. Garrus let out a triumphant _whoop_ as Shepard thumbed the comm button. "Thanks for the ride, Joker."

"Anytime, Commander." She could clearly hear the relief in his voice, and it elicited an ironic smile. His confident demeanor had been a bluff, after all. But he'd accomplished what he'd promised, and that was all that mattered. "Anytime."


	13. Fire

**Fire**

Shepard was awash with joy, pain and exhaustion. She'd stolen the Alliance's most valuable frigate, travelled the Mu Relay to Ilos, found the Conduit, blazed her way across the Citadel, talked Saren into suicide, battled the not-Saren creature that had animated his form, and then watched with shock and awe as the Fifth Fleet - with the Normandy in the lead (_and Joker at her helm, of course_) - had destroyed Sovereign. Her exuberance had lasted approximately thirty seconds, which was the amount of time it'd taken her to realize that flaming chunks of the Reaper were about to descend on their location. "Move!" she'd screamed at Garrus and Liara, just before the ceiling had collapsed on top of them in a fiery hailstorm.

She'd regained consciousness coughing, thick dust choking her lungs. She'd heard voices calling her name, and crawled toward them. Garrus had spotted her, and had effortlessly yanked her from the debris. Now he was half-carrying, half-dragging her to the clinic, the toes of her armor barely scraping along the floor. Her left arm dangled uselessly, and it hurt when she breathed. Her vision turned crimson, and she realized that blood was dripping into her eye. She shook her head to clear her sight, causing her surroundings to tilt precariously.

The first thing she saw when the clinic door slid open was her pilot's silhouette. He was facing away from her, but when he spun toward the door and spotted her, his worried hazel eyes immediately flooded with relief and delight. The wide grin that split his face mirrored hers.

She released Garrus and hobbled toward him, saying, "Joker, you beautiful, beautiful man. You did it!" Then, without further thought, she placed her uninjured palm on his cheek and kissed him.

At first, she was only aware of the scratch of his beard on her skin and the bill of his cap being crushed against her forehead, but suddenly, his mouth yielded, lips parting in response to hers. He was warm, and welcoming, and as his hand tentatively gripped her hip, she thought, "_This feels like home_."

Her sense of propriety regained a foothold in her consciousness, and she pulled away, saying, "Nice flying." He beamed at her, ecstatically, as she playfully tipped the brim of his hat.

"Okay, Commander. I think you might be delirious," she heard Garrus say from behind her. He didn't try to conceal the amusement in his voice. "You should have the doc look at that arm."

A frown furrowed the pilot's brow as he said, "Yeah, what happened to you?" He and Garrus settled her gently into one of the plastic chairs, and Joker perched anxiously beside her.

"An errant piece of scaffolding. Nothing to worry about," she replied, slipping her undamaged arm into his. "You did it," she whispered, leaning against him and letting his strength hold her up, still amazed by what they'd accomplished.

"_We_ did it," he responded, clasping her arm tightly against his body as if to hold her there forever. She peered up at him as he gazed down on her, and unexpectedly, a tremor of trepidation shuddered through her.

"_After today, nothing will be the same,"_ she thought, not realizing just how accurate that premonition would be.


	14. Hero

**A/N: **_Hey, everyone...hope you're enjoying these little vignettes so far. I've purposely chosen not to cover the explosion of the Normandy in any detail, because I feel like I explored it pretty well from both Joker and Shepard's viewpoints in the original story. But mostly, I wanted to say - this chapter is "M", for...well, pretty much everything. _

* * *

**Hero**

Joker was dizzyingly drunk. He was lying on his back, on a stranger's couch, with his pants undone and the woman's lips wrapped around his cock, while the room spun slowly. His partner was enthusiastic, but his body was not cooperating. Too much alcohol and self-pity was a lethal libido killer.

He would've felt bad about his poor performance, but he hadn't asked for her company. He'd been sitting alone in the bar, contentedly getting plastered, when she'd shimmied onto the stool next to his. She'd looked vaguely familiar – he thought that maybe she'd been one of the nameless, faceless masses who'd ignored him during high school, perhaps a year or two older than he was. She'd known all about the Citadel, and the Council, and had breathlessly informed him that the local news had declared him a hero. He'd cringed and knocked back another shot. He'd wondered what she'd think if he told her that he'd been the one who'd killed the real hero of the Citadel. Commander Shepard had survived thresher maws, and geth, and Sovereign, but she hadn't been able to survive her stubborn, selfish, fucking useless pilot.

But she was getting her revenge now – oh, yeah, that was for damn sure. Shepard's memory haunted his sleeping and waking hours, alike. In his dreams, he could _feel _her next to him – his arm slung around her armored shoulders, her grip firmly hugging his waist. He never, not for one moment, felt scared when she was there. But when she tossed him into the pod, that's when the panic began to rise – he knew what was coming, even before it happened. He'd reach for her, the inches between their fingers slowly gaping into a chasm, and then she'd get knocked backwards and away, and he would wake up screaming her name. Reality was worse. He was back here on Arcturus with his parents, temporarily grounded. No ship, no friends – not a goddamn thing to distract him from his misery. The crew had scattered, completely adrift without Shepard to bind them together. He kept remembering that one stupid kiss on the Citadel, after Sovereign – the whole scene playing out in slow motion, over and over...

S_he walked right up to him and slid a grimy, gloved hand across his cheek and into his hair. The smell of dust, blood and scorched hair assaulted his nostrils, but he didn't care, because this was Shepard, and he'd want her even if she'd just crawled out of a damn sewer. Then her mouth was on his, and he was so shocked that he almost forgot how to kiss, but finally, just before she was ready to pull away, he responded and clutched her to him for a precious few additional seconds. Her skin was so warm, her lips so soft, and her taste so sweet, that he never wanted to let her go. But the smile she gave him afterwards was nearly as good – full of joy, camaraderie, and triumph. He realized that he'd made her proud, and damned if, in that moment, that didn't feel like all he'd ever hoped to achieve._

It was only now that she was gone that Joker could admit that his feelings for Shepard had been growing alarmingly akin to love. And, honestly, he hated her more than just a little bit for making him feel this way and then leaving him alone.

The woman currently hunched over his crotch sat up and regarded him, pouting. "What's the matter? Don't you want me?" She splayed her hands across her bare breasts in a way that he supposed was meant to be enticing, but he was too goddamn inebriated and miserable for this. He should never have come here. Oh, well. He was sure that his reputation as a drunken loser was already working its way across the space station; he might as well add "impotent asshole" to the rumors.

"I gotta go," he mumbled, trying to extricate himself from the clutches of her sofa. He staggered to his feet, zipping up his pants and trying to focus bleary eyes on the nearest exit. She sank back against the cushions muttering, "Whatever. Asshole."

Well, he'd gotten it half right. He was relatively certain that it would occur to her to add "limp dick" to the description later on when she discussed the encounter with her friends.

He stumbled out onto the street and tried to get his bearings. Unfortunately, he hadn't really been paying attention during the cab ride over, but it hadn't seemed like they'd travelled too far from the bar. Now, if he could only recall exactly where he'd been imbibing in the first place…

He'd meandered maybe half a block in a randomly chosen direction when a vehicle pulled up next to him. Two station security officers emerged, regarding him warily. "Are you all right, sir?"

"Fine."

"Do you have some ID?"

Suddenly, the absurdity of the evening hit him, and he began to laugh – quietly, at first, but then, a bit maniacally. The officers exchanged concerned glances, hands sliding closer to the butts of their holstered pistols.

"ID? Don't you know who I am? I'm a goddamn hero!" he declared, throwing his arms into the air.

Joker managed his first decent sleep in months when he threw up and then passed out in the back of the cruiser during the ride downtown.


	15. Red

**Red**

Ever since she'd woken up on the Cerberus station, there'd been a red film behind Shepard's eyes. It made the world around her blurry; pumped a hazy fog through her brain. _Two years. Crew safe, but moved on. _She tried to comprehend the things that the Cerberus agents were telling her, but they made no sense. The Normandy had blown up. She'd saved Joker; gotten spaced. Died. Those facts, she understood. The rest of it made her head pound; made the scarlet mist pulse viciously. She wanted to ask the brunette bitch why it was happening, but she didn't trust her. Didn't trust any of them. Two months – _two years, _her traitorous mind reminded her – ago, they'd been trying to kill her. Now they wanted to be allies. _Things change, _the one named Jacob had said. Life had continued without her.

The Illusive Man explained that they wanted something from her. Of course. No one spends billions of credits to revive an undead Spectre without a damn good reason. Riding to Freedom's Progress, she concentrated on breathing slowly and evenly. Her reconstructed skull felt on the verge of exploding. She doubted the competence of these so-called experts who'd patched her back together. The world around her dripped with viscous crimson fluid. That didn't seem right.

At the sight of Tali, the haze retreated, temporarily. Someone she knew, and trusted. She almost wept with relief. But there was no time for reunions, and after the colony had been explored and the missing quarian recovered, Tali departed, forsaking her to the enemy. Her heart raced in a way that it never had in battle; the blood throbbed in her veins. _Don't leave me here alone._

Headed back to the station afterwards; her chest tight, silently gasping for air. She remembered this feeling of slow suffocation. It seemed unfair that she should have to die twice. In front of the Illusive Man once again, she begged repeatedly for information about her crew, her status; some part of the life that had been _hers. _Thirty years of scraping and clawing; she wouldn't – _couldn't – _start over from the beginning.

Repeatedly rebuffed, she felt herself sinking into the vermillion vapor that enveloped her, so deeply that his final words barely penetrated. "I found a pilot I think you might like. I hear he's one of the best. Someone you can trust."

And then, _finally, _something familiar – a friendly voice cocooning her in a comforting embrace. She could see the magenta molecules dispersing under the impact of his sardonic salutation. "Hey, Commander. Just like old times, huh?"

She was unable to recover her voice until they reached the hangar. "I can't believe it's you, Joker." _And you have no idea how happy I am to see you._

She asked him about the crew, and Cerberus, finally getting some straight answers, feeling her thoughts beginning to coalesce into something coherent. They leaned against the metal railing, and her helmsman – her _friend_ – smiled at her with such joy and relief that she could have sworn she was merely seeing her own emotions reflected on his face. "Check this out," he instructed.

The SR-2 was beautiful, but it was the pilot, not the ship, that relieved her dread. "It's good to be home, huh, Commander?" he murmured, and she once again fought back the tears that threatened to spill when she understood that he wasn't going to abandon her to this new existence. She wouldn't have to navigate her recent resurrection on her own. That's when she realized that the world around her was once again polychromatic; the burgundy veil that had been shrouding her sight since she'd opened her eyes had vanished.

"It sure is, Joker," she replied, feeling alive for the first time since rising from the dead. "It sure is."


	16. Journey

**Journey**

The commander walked uncertainly across the Normandy's bridge, stopping just short of the entrance to the cockpit. Back before Sovereign's attack on the Citadel, these post-mission visits with her pilot had been routine. But then there'd been that kiss, and the political and media shit storm that had followed the battle, and by the time they'd returned to action, things had seemed awkward between them.

Then she'd died, which had made things awkward with everyone.

She kept reminding herself that for Joker, the kiss had happened two years ago.

_He probably doesn't even remember it_, she reassured herself.

Today's mission had been rough, and she needed a friend. Drawing a fortifying breath, she squared her shoulders and continued on her journey.

Joker heard Shepard approaching. He'd learned long ago to recognize her measured, purposeful stride, but today it was uncharacteristically hesitant. He listened, ears straining, until her footsteps resumed.

He began his monologue as soon as she drew alongside his chair. "Hey! We got Garrus back! That's great! He was always my favorite, what with that stick up his ass and all." He glanced up just in time to see the shadow pass over her face.

_Oh, shit._ Chakwas had assured him that Garrus was going to be okay, but maybe the turian had taken a turn for the worse? Had he just shoved his foot into his big mouth, once again?

Shepard felt unwelcome tears spring to her eyes, and she hurriedly turned to go. Joker's hand shot out and encircled her wrist. Cat-like reflexes on the pilot, no denying that. She could destroy him in a hundred different ways, but if it came to a quick-draw contest, she'd be dead before she could pull her gun from her holster. Her gaze reluctantly met his concerned one. "What's wrong?" he asked, and the floodgates opened.

Her eyes sought the floor and her throat constricted as she fought back a sob. "The mission today went all kinds of sideways on me. I've got the crazy merc and the Cerberus bitch with me, and we're lucky we're not shooting each other in the back as we're making our way across the damn bridge. Then we get inside, and I see that Archangel is _Garrus_..."

She paused and managed a weak smile. "I actually thought for a moment, 'Hey, maybe everything's going to be okay.' Then this gunship appears, and there was blue blood _everywhere_, and the old bastard said, 'He's not gonna make it,' and I almost shot him through his good eye right then and there, 'cause I thought...I thought..."

Joker's grip slid downward to lightly squeeze her fingers. "You thought he might be right?" he inquired, softly. She nodded reluctantly, still unable to speak. "But he wasn't. Garrus is tough, and he's going to be fine." The pilot inspected her face, and he hated what he saw there - an uncertainty that had never existed before. For better or worse, the old Shepard had marched through life with a blithe confidence. Dying had stolen it from her.

"These people spent billions of credits to bring me back, just to send me on a suicide mission! Why? It makes no fucking _sense_!" The truth was, Shepard had been terrified that her old friend was going to bleed out on that dirty floor in the slums of Omega. But it had been his post-mission comment about marching into hell at her side that had inspired this particular bout of self-doubt.

She couldn't shake the feeling that she was gathering a team merely to herd them to the slaughter.

"I wish they had just left me dead," she said, bitterly.

Joker wished nothing of the sort, of course, and found himself involuntarily tightening his grasp on her hand when she expressed this sentiment. He concentrated on relaxing his hold. "They did it because the Reapers have to be stopped, and you're the only one who can do it. Two years may have passed, and you may have..." he choked on the word 'died,' "...been gone, but nothing has changed, Shepard. You're the only one who's ever stood a chance of succeeding."

She regarded him with her penetrating gaze. "Is that why you came back?"

"Shepard," he scoffed, shaking his head. The unexpected question had blindsided him, and he found himself avoiding her eyes. Her ability to see the truth in people was suddenly a weapon to be avoided.

"What?"

Did she really not know? He felt like his emotions had been blatantly transparent since the destruction of the Normandy, but maybe he was better at hiding them than he thought. "I owe you my life, Shepard. I'm with you until the end, whatever that might be."

It was true, but the words were so far from what he wanted to tell her, they tasted bitter as he spoke them.

"Jeff, you don't owe me..." she began, but he interrupted.

"Besides...without me, you'd be _fucked_, and we both know it," he added with a sudden, lopsided grin.

She laughed, startled by the abrupt change in tone of their conversation. It felt good; comfortable. Just like the old days.

"Yeah, we do," she replied, leaning down and quickly grazing her lips across his cheek. The smell of her shampoo wafted over him as her hair tickled his nose. Her mouth just inches from his ear, she murmured, "I'm glad you're here, Jeff." The caress of her breath on his skin sent a tingle down his spine.

She straightened and shot him one last grateful glance before departing. Joker listened to her retreating footfalls, and concluded that they were steadier now than they had been upon her arrival. He sank back into his chair with his own sigh of released tension.

_So am I, Shepard_.

* * *

**A/N:** _This was one of those chapters that fought me every step of the way. But with the generous assistance of jay8008, I think I finally managed to beat it into submission. Many thanks, my friend. Oh, and yes - Zaaed is referenced here, even though he never appeared in the main story. For no real reason other than author whimsy._


	17. Unknown

**Unknown**

With a wince, Shepard peeled off her under-armor bodysuit and stepped out of it. There was a round bruise, about seven centimeters in diameter, forming on her hip. She cursed in disgust. Today's fracas aboard the prison ship Purgatory had been unanticipated. She'd found the warden's hubris in thinking that he could capture and sell her to the highest bidder both amusing and infuriating. Mostly the latter. Her rage had given her a focus in battle that she hadn't achieved since she'd reclaimed her life. And yet, she still hadn't fought unerringly. She had the welts to prove it.

She showered quickly and ran a comb through her wet hair. Grabbing a sweatshirt and running shorts from the drawer, she caught a glimpse of her naked reflection in the empty aquarium and frowned. The scars that had been a visual chronicle of her former life were gone; new blemishes of unknown origin had taken their places. Other than that, her new form was almost perfect. The cybernetics Cerberus had implanted gave her sharper sight, clearer hearing, quicker reflexes and stronger muscles.

But mentally and emotionally, she wasn't nearly as flawless. Fear and anxiety were constant companions. She wasn't sleeping well, and as a result, she was often tired and distracted. The alliance with Cerberus made her uneasy, and her new teammates were unknown variables. Even with the crewmates she knew and trusted, she found herself being irritable and snappish. It wasn't like her.

Turning away from her refurbished image, her gaze fell upon the datapad she'd abandoned by the side of the bed. Miranda had presented it to her during her introductory tour of the SR2. It contained hundreds of news reports, beginning with Sovereign's attack on the Citadel, and continuing through the first attack on a human colony. There were also numerous photos. She assumed that Cerberus had pilfered them from various media outlets – most of them had never been published.

Settling onto the mattress, she lifted the device, and called up a picture that had been taken on the Presidium right after Garrus had pulled her from the rubble. The two of them with Liara, huddled together, heads bowed, looking battered but not broken. The image never failed to conjure a rush of nostalgia. In that moment, she'd felt invincible. She knew she'd never feel that way again.

She moved on to a photograph that had been preoccupying her since first sight. It was a close-up of her and Joker, seated in the waiting room of Dr. Michel's clinic. She couldn't imagine where the photographer had been hiding; she certainly hadn't been aware of any reporters, at the time. Nonetheless, the image had captured her and the pilot with their arms intertwined, her head resting on his shoulder. She was filthy, and blood leaked from a gash in her forehead. Joker was in profile, the brim of his cap partially obscuring his face. And yet, his expression was excruciatingly clear. He was gazing down on her with undisguised worry and affection. With his lips mere inches from her injured temple, they looked suspiciously like two lovers captured in an intimate moment.

She stared, transfixed, until the image began to blur. Setting the datapad aside, she lay back against her pillows, gazing blankly out the skylight at the vastness of space. Her past had been less a series of choices than one constant battle for survival. She'd been ceaselessly buffeted by the whims of fate. Now, she wanted something different. She wanted to take control of her own life.

She just wished she knew _how._

As if conjured by her musings, her omni-tool buzzed.

_JM: So, I hear we have a new psycho aboard. A deadly biotic._

_SS: Yes. But you might like her. She's not a big fan of superfluous clothing._

_JM: Will she turn me into a smudge on the wall if she catches me checking her out?_

_SS: Probably._

_JM: Figures. Women._

A brief pause followed, then:

_JM: I was kind of expecting you to stop by earlier. Everything okay?_

_SS: Yeah. Was a bit sore after today's frivolities. Needed a hot shower._

_JM: Mmm. Please hold, while I take this opportunity to envision that._

_SS: Joker! Stop that!_

_JM: Trying to restrict my fantasies now? Anyone ever tell you that you have serious control issues?_

_SS: It's possible that it's been mentioned once or twice._

_JM: I bet. Anyway, I heard about the warden and his nefarious scheme. You sure you're all right?_

_SS: Sure. We retrieved the target. The mission was a success._

_JM: That's not what I meant._

She knew what he meant. But she was used to pretending to be okay, even when she wasn't. Her response was automatic.

_SS: I'm fine._

_JM: Okay. As long as you know you don't always have to be. _

She hesitated. The cursor blinked impatiently, mocking her indecision. Finally, before the system could log her out, she typed -

_SS: Joker?_

_JM: Yeah?_

_SS: Thanks for asking. I appreciate it._

_JM: Sure. No problem. See ya later._

_SS: Later._

She signed off and lay back with a sigh. She was really going to do this. Take a chance. Let someone in.

Shepard just hoped that her well-earned reputation for leaving a flaming trail of destruction in her professional and personal wake didn't extend to...whatever _this_ was. If history was any indication...

_Yeah, not a good sign._

On the other hand, she _had _come back from the dead. Perhaps it was time to adjust her assumptions about what was and wasn't possible.

_Joker, huh?_

_God help him._

* * *

**A/N: **_Sorry for the extended delay in posting; to say I've been uninspired would be a vast understatement. Thanks to jay8008 for his ceaseless pestering and inspired suggestions. _


	18. Drink

**Drink**

Shepard was a little tipsy.

Okay, scratch that. She was good and drunk. She squinted at the bottle of Serrice Ice Brandy on Chakwas' desk, trying to ascertain how much was left, but the room was swaying uncooperatively. She was going to have to speak to Joker about those motion dampeners. They weren't doing a very good job.

Speaking of Joker, Chakwas was saying, "Jeff will always have Vrolik's Syndrome. He would never admit it, but he needs my help, and he always will."

Shepard sensed an opening, but still, she hesitated. To buy some time, she held up her glass and announced, "To the ornery bastard who flies this ship!"

Chakwas raised her mug, as well. "The best fighter jockey to ever take to the skies!"

They drank, and then slammed their drained tumblers onto the table, laughing. Chakwas hoisted the bottle, cursing when she found it empty. This barely registered with Shepard, who was gathering the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on her mind.

"So," she began, striving for nonchalance, "you've researched Vrolik's quite a bit, haven't you?"

"I consider myself fairly well-educated on the subject, yes," the doc replied, sounding intrigued by Shepard's query. _Too_ intrigued.

"Right. So, I was just wondering…are there any, uh, specific things Jeff can't do, you know, because of his, uh, condition?"

"You mean, besides run a four-minute mile?" A glance at the sly grin on the doctor's face confirmed that she understood exactly what Shepard was asking, and why. Shepard decided to abandon the casual façade.

"Yeah. I just don't want to, you know, hurt him." The deeper meaning of that simple statement struck her immediately, and she blushed, embarrassed. Chakwas' playful demeanor instantly evaporated.

"You know that I care about both you and Jeff very much, right?" she said gently, and Shepard cringed inwardly. _Here it comes, _she thought_, all of the **buts**…chain of command, the Vrolik's, our almost-certain imminent demises. All of the reasons why it's stupid and selfish of me to even consider..._

But Chakwas surprised her. "If you're concerned about physical limitations, I think you should discuss that with him. But to be honest, that's not what worries me. You're both more emotionally fragile than you'd ever admit, and you both…" she paused, choosing her words deliberately, "…struggle with navigating interpersonal relationships. I know that you care about each other," she added, kindly. "I'd just advise you to proceed carefully."

Shepard stood abruptly, weaving on her feet. Chakwas' words stung, but only because they were true. She knew that what she was contemplating would probably end badly…but that didn't prevent her from wanting it.

"Thanks," she mumbled, stumbling toward the medbay door. "Shepard, wait!" Chakwas called after her, but she allowed her momentum to propel her down the hall. Arriving at the elevator, she leaned on the call button and briefly closed her eyes. The bell dinged, and the doors opened to reveal none other than the pilot in question.

"You okay?" he queried as she lurched forward, prompting him to extend a steadying hand. The doors slid shut, trapping them in the enclosed space, but the cab remained motionless as neither of them had chosen a destination.

The moment expanded, awkwardly, until she finally recalled that he had asked a question. "Yeah, I'm okay. I was having a drink with Chawa…Chakawa…Karin," she finished, triumphantly.

"Mmm. Are you sure it wasn't more than one drink?"

"Maybe. We toasted you."

"I think you're the one that's toasted," he teased, and she laughed, temporarily forgetting her injured feelings.

"No! We raised a glass to the best...damn...pilot...in the universe!" Her eyes shone with inebriated enthusiasm.

Joker chuckled, amused by her earnestness. He wrapped a supportive arm around her as he pushed the button for the top floor. "Well, I'm flattered by that exuberant endorsement. I don't suppose you saved me any of that fancy hooch you were drinking?"

"No," she admitted, guiltily.

"Talk is cheap, Commander. Next time, demonstrate your appreciation with booze, 'kay?"

When the doors parted, she staggered out before turning to face him. "Can you make it the rest of the way?" he inquired with a smirk, holding the door open. It was perhaps five steps to her door.

"I think so," she said, eyeing the distance, dubiously.

"Okay. Good night."

Just as he released the door, Shepard called, "Jeff?" She recklessly flung her forearm into the shrinking opening, causing the door to rebound forcefully.

"Yeah?"

Shepard hesitated, pinning him with a serious, but somewhat unfocused, gaze. "You know that I would never do anything to hurt you...you know, inteshun...tenshul...on purpose. Right?"

Joker wasn't sure how to decipher this drunken declaration. "Sure." When she merely continued to stare intently, he added, "I know. And I would never intentionally do anything to hurt you, either, Shepard."

Shepard smiled, mollified. Chakwas had been right about them, but it didn't matter. Perhaps a desire to be kind to each other would eventually prove insufficient, but it was as good a place as any to start.

"Okay. Well, g'night," she said, leaning forward to bestow what Joker at first assumed would be a grateful peck on the cheek. But instead, her lips landed on his and lingered for longer than was customary for a friendly smooch. Just as the shock of the gesture registered, she pulled away and the doors slid shut between them.

"Uh... 'night," Joker replied after an extended pause, addressing the closed elevator doors. The shiny metal finish was unresponsive as it silently reflected his bewildered countenance, and it took another long moment before he realized the elevator wasn't moving.

"_What the _hell_ was that?"_ he mused, shaking his head as he clumsily stabbed at the button labeled _Crew Deck_.


	19. Body

**Body**

Shepard shifted in her sleep and startled awake when she brushed against the warm body next to her. Joker stirred, as well, and rolled onto his side, facing her, his arm resting possessively across her abdomen. She lay still, breathing shallowly, trying not to disturb him further. They were both naked, lying on top of the covers, with only a light blanket tangled loosely around them.

After the alcohol and exertions of the previous evening, they'd both fallen asleep quickly. Now, she turned her head to observe him in repose. Joker's hair was disheveled and the sheet had slipped with his movement to drape alluringly over his slim hips. He looked sexy as hell and a rush of desire overtook her. She was contemplating lusty thoughts when he cracked an eyelid and said, "It's kind of creepy to stare like that, you know." His voice was husky with sleep.

"I know. Sorry," she apologized, ducking her head and pressing her face against his chest. His hand rose from her waist to her hair, which he stroked, absently. Shepard found herself suppressing the urge to purr like a cat.

The Illusive Man's fundraising event had been a disaster. _"Nothing but meat and tubes."_ That was how Jacob had described her body as it'd lain on the Cerberus operating table for two years. But still, she hadn't really understood until she'd seen it for herself. She shuddered, remembering the graphic photographic evidence of her reconstruction.

"You okay?" Joker asked, lips brushing her brow.

"Yeah," she dissembled. "I'm just used to sleeping alone, I guess."

"I could go, if you want."

"No!" she said, too adamantly, and felt his responding chuckle vibrate along her skin as his arms tightened around her.

"Good," he sighed, "because I didn't really have any intention of leaving."

They were quiet for a while after that, while Shepard contemplated their current situation. She and Joker had finally consummated their clumsy mating ritual, and it had gone better than she'd expected. There'd been awkward moments, sure - not uncommon for first encounters - but it had still been pretty amazing. After all the years of working together, they had a habitual give-and-take that had made non-verbal communication effortless. Joker was considerate, and eager to please. He was also dexterous and surprisingly intuitive. Overall, the physical act had proven far less complicated than the emotional journey that had led them here; but then again, in her experience, it usually was.

As if reading her thoughts, Joker murmured, "Shepard?"

"Mmm?"

"Thanks for not making tonight into a big deal."

She was confused, and a little wounded. She'd thought it was a pretty big deal. "Oh. Sure."

Quickly interpreting her injured tone, his posture tensed as he amended, "No! I didn't mean it like that. You and me…this…that's a big deal. A very big deal. I meant, you know…" he stammered, "…the sex, and the Vrolik's."

"Oh! Well, I did, uh, mention it to Chakwas, a while ago."

"You did?" Joker sounded slightly mortified by this news, so Shepard hastened to add, "Well, yeah. You know...not, like, recommendations for specific positions, or anything. Just that I was worried about, uh, hurting you."

_Hmm...that doesn't sound quite right, either._ "She wasn't very helpful. She told me that I should talk to you about it. But I never really got around to it. And then, once we'd actually started, I kind of, uh, forgot." She glanced up at his face to find him grinning widely.

"Well, that's a good thing…that you were finding it difficult to think coherently." He sounded far too pleased with himself.

"Just because I haven't hurt you yet doesn't mean I won't," she teased, jabbing him lightly in the ribs. In response, Joker slid his hand down her back to squeeze her ass.

"Yes, please hurt me, Commander. I've been a very bad Lieutenant."

Shepard's laughter echoed through the room before Joker rolled on top of her, his mouth claiming hers and stealing her breath away. Tonight, she'd been unpleasantly reminded of how it had felt, waking up confused and alone, to discover that she'd lost two years of her life. But just as he had back then, Joker had been there, waiting, to help her feel alive.

* * *

**A/N: **_Here you go, y'all...a bit of sexy fluff, my Christmas present to you. Hope you have a happy and healthy holiday - Jacks._


	20. Silence

**Silence**

Shepard and Joker had been sleeping together for about a week on the morning when they emerged side-by-side from the elevator onto the crew deck. They had just come from her quarters and were deep in discussion as they rounded the corner into the mess hall. It was bustling with the breakfast crowd, and therefore, it was the incongruous hush that alerted Shepard first. Her animated expression quickly morphed into a frown as she realized that most of the crew was attempting to observe them surreptitiously.

"What the hell is this?" she hissed under her breath to Joker.

He shrugged, unperturbed. "You know how fast gossip spreads on a ship like this. We've apparently made today's headlines."

Gazes fell away as one by one, she challenged them, wordlessly. She took her place in line, Joker falling in behind her. Snatching a tray from Gardner, she chose a seat across from Garrus, allowing her meal to clatter noisily onto the table. The turian merely regarded her, his mandibles twitching with what she interpreted as amusement, as Joker settled with significantly less commotion onto the bench next to her.

"What?" she demanded of Garrus, irritably.

Her right-hand man flicked a knowing glance in Joker's direction before allowing his steady stare to settle upon her. "Somebody," he drawled quietly, "is suspiciously cheerful this morning."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "If you think this is cheerful, you need to keep studying that chart of human expressions I got for you."

He shrugged off her annoyance, but Shepard wasn't mollified. So, she was happy. So what? She didn't see how that was anybody else's business. She hated the idea that the crew was talking about her behind her back. She was torn between the impulse to distance herself from Joker, and the desire to ravish him right there in the mess, in a blatant display of _"My ship; My rules."_ But she knew that neither denial nor exhibitionism was the answer; so instead, she merely sat there, feeling uncharacteristically powerless.

The pilot must have noticed her distress, because he said, quietly, "Hey, it's okay. Relax."

"It's not okay."

Under the table, he placed a comforting hand on her leg, but she slid away, refusing to be placated.

Undaunted, Joker said, "They're just being nosy. You're the infamous _Commander Shepard_. Your personal life is a source of great fascination. Don't make it a bigger deal than it is."

"I don't want them to lose respect for me."

"Because you're sleeping with me?"

"Yes," she replied, without thinking.

"Ouch." Joker's head bowed as he suddenly became very interested in the contents of his plate.

"Jeff, c'mon. You know that's not what I meant."

An awkward silence followed during which Joker and Garrus pushed their food around aimlessly, and Shepard seethed. After a minute or so, Joker said, "Well, I better get going," and picked up his untouched breakfast. She watched, helplessly, as he dumped the contents in the trash and stacked the dishes in the rack.

What was she supposed to do now? Stand and proudly announce the obvious - that she was fucking her pilot? Or would that be insulting, too? She knew that whatever was between them was more than just sex, although they hadn't yet attempted to label their relationship, and she somehow doubted that this was the proper time and place to attempt_ that_ feat. But she didn't want him walking out of here feeling like she was ashamed of him, either.

As Joker passed the table, Shepard reached out and seized his wrist. Rising to her feet, she put two fingers to her lips and emitted a long, piercing whistle. "Pay attention, people, because this is only going to happen once," she ordered. Then she sidled up to Joker, firmly grasped the back of his neck in one hand, and engaged him in an open-mouthed, tongue-tangling, spit-swapping kiss. The only thing that kept it from being totally obscene was the fact that they were both fighting back grins as it transpired.

Shepard's enhanced hearing allowed her to isolate snippets of commentary in the ensuing bedlam.

_"Aw, c'mon - some of us are trying to eat here." -_ Jack

_"More tongue, Shep. You kiss like a girl!" -_ Kasumi

_"Shepard, I really don't think this is appropriate...or sanitary." -_ Miranda

They remained lip-locked until the jeers and laughter had died down. Finally, Shepard pulled away, breathless and unrepentant. She suddenly realized that this was the first time she'd allowed herself to let her guard down in front of the Cerberus crew and take the initial steps toward building some mutual trust. And ironically, she knew that she had her burgeoning romance with the misanthropic pilot to thank - or blame, depending on one's perspective - for providing the motivation.

But as she looked around the room, her eyes betrayed nothing of her ruminations; they were as sharp and unyielding as they always were on the field of battle. Solidarity was one thing, but she wanted her team to understand that she was still in charge and she would not be sacrificing her privacy to satisfy their prurient curiosity again anytime soon.

"Now, everyone, get the fuck back to work."


	21. View

**View**

Shepard regained consciousness to the sound of someone walking across her room. She didn't open her eyes; didn't move a muscle. The footsteps were steady and even; the intruder was making no effort to be stealthy. Her hand sought the cool, metal grip of the pistol that she kept beneath her pillow. A shadow passed over her closed eyelids, and she felt the trespasser looming over her. She had the gun pressed to their temple before they could blink.

Joker, backlit by the light from the aquarium, regarded her with a confident smirk. "Goddamn, that is s_o _sexy."

Blowing out a frustrated sigh, she simultaneously lowered the weapon and passed her hand over the sensor for the bedside lamp. It bathed them in a soft, artificial glow that was still bright enough to cause her to squint. "There is something seriously wrong with you. What the hell are you doing, sneaking around?"

Straightening up while rolling his eyes, Joker said, "Honey, I have Vrolik's. I don't sneak. And you gave me access to your quarters, remember? I'm guessing this friendly welcome means it's going to take you a little while to get used to this cohabitating thing?"

"What? Just because I damn near blew your fool head off?"

"Shepard, you're one of the galaxy's elite commandos. You'd never shoot me unintentionally," he retorted with a smug grin.

"Who said anything about unintentionally?" she muttered under her breath as Joker sat on the edge of the bed and began removing his boots, but his joviality was already taking the edge off of her irritation. After all, if anyone had a reason to be peeved, it was probably the guy who'd just had a gun shoved in his face. But she had to admit, he was taking the inhospitable greeting with remarkably good humor.

Joker watched, dumbfounded, as she reached over and slid the pistol back into its resting place, out of sight. "You _really_ sleep with that thing under your pillow?"

"Yep."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Expecting midnight marauders out here in the middle of deep space, are you?"

"Or just a smart-ass pilot in need of a good pistol-whipping."

Disregarding that, he asked, "How have you managed to not blow your _own _fool head off?"

"Because," she stated, matter-of-factly, "as you so accurately pointed out earlier, I am a highly-trained soldier and an expert markswoman." She paused briefly, then added with a yawn, "And I always make sure that the safety is on before I go to bed."

"Oh, well, that's comforting," he replied, dryly. In response, Shepard leaned over and jabbed him playfully in the ribs, startling him and causing him to jump. "Stop that!" he scolded, scowling disapprovingly in her direction, but her mischievous grin lingered. He thought he heard her murmur, "_Wuss_," but he couldn't be sure.

Dismissing her antics with a shake of his head, Joker pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. Shepard's eyes roamed over the contours of his torso, and then dropped involuntarily to his waist, suddenly distracted as she anticipated the imminent removal of the remainder of his uniform. Her gaze abruptly snapped back to his face when she realized, belatedly, that he'd paused in his disrobing ritual. He was once again sporting that damn arrogant grin.

"Enjoying the view, Commander?"

She laughed. She was, and he knew that she was. It was a little late in the game to play coy.

"I'd like to do more than just look," she purred, reaching for him, reveling in the reassuring feel of his weight settling over her. Her fingertips trailed lightly down his spine, raising goosebumps in their wake.

Joker's elbows framed her face and his breath caressed her cheek as he lowered his mouth to her ear. "Whatever you say, Shepard," he murmured, oblingingly. She shivered with pleasure as his teeth grazed the lobe. "After all, far be it from me to argue with a woman who keeps a gun stashed under her pillow."

* * *

**A/N: **_Once again, I apologize for the delay. I've had this one ready to go for a while now, but my brain kept telling me that there was something else that was supposed to happen before this. Unfortunately, it doesn't want to tell me what it is, so without further ado..._


	22. Midnight

**Midnight**

Shepard was sitting in the dim mess hall when she heard the stairwell door that was tucked between the medbay and main battery hiss open. It was after midnight, and she had a pretty good idea who was skulking around at this hour. Jack took several steps into the darkened room before she froze and tilted her face up, like an animal sniffing for danger. Before she could bolt, Shepard spoke quietly, without looking up from her terminal. "There are leftovers in the cooler. Help yourself."

After a brief hesitation, the biotic proceeded to rummage noisily through the subzero, emerging with a heaping plate. Shepard continued working as Jack placed her meal in the oven. After a few seconds, the appliance beeped and she claimed her prize, settling at the other end of the table, across from Shepard. The commander glanced up briefly as Jack began to shovel forks full of reconstituted potatoes into her mouth.

"Hope that little display the other morning didn't discourage you from joining us at mealtimes," Shepard said. "We're not planning on making it a regular thing, in case you were worried."

"Didn't help," Jack admitted, rolling her eyes. "Rather avoid dealing with your people, anyway."

Shepard ignored the barbed comment. "Wish I could eat like you," she remarked, watching the biotic scarf down her food.

Jack snorted. "Yeah, right. 'Cause everyone wants to be me."

Not rising to the bait, Shepard replied evenly, "Not what I said. I know biotics require a lot of fuel. Although," she admitted, "I pack away a respectable amount of calories myself, truth be told."

"Sure. It takes a lot of energy to save the world," Jack mocked.

"The **galaxy**, Jack. Think bigger. And more stressful," Shepard responded, with an easy grin.

They sat in silence for a while, Shepard reading and Jack eating. About halfway through her meal, Jack said, "What the hell do you see in that guy?"

Keeping her eyes cast downward, Shepard shrugged. "What usually attracts women to men?" she equivocated.

Jack started ticking off items on her fingers, using the tip of her plastic fork. "Money. Power. A ticket to freedom." Looking like she'd said more than she'd intended, she turned back to her food. "Or, at the very least, a nice ass," she muttered.

Smiling slightly, Shepard once again looked up from her terminal. "Well, money and power don't impress me much. And I happen to think that Joker has a pretty sweet ass, actually. Have you ever checked it out?"

"Seriously. You're, like, the boss around here," Jack persisted, indicating the ship surrounding them. "You could have any one of these guys. And you choose the lame-ass pilot? What the hell is up with that?"

Shepard knew that she was being provoked. Even in the dim light, Jack's eyes glittered with aggression. Steadfastly refusing to play her game, Shepard said, "I'm not interested in using my position to extort sexual favors, Jack. I may not be as glamorous as I once was," she continued self-deprecatingly, gesturing at her still-healing surgical scars, "but I haven't sunk that low. Besides, my relationship with Joker isn't j_ust _about sex. Although, that part is damn good," she supplied, helpfully.

"And…there goes my appetite," Jack announced, pushing her tray away and slouching back in her seat. "So, what are you saying? You're in _love_?" she scoffed, drawing the word out sarcastically.

"You and I have more in common than you know," Shepard replied, once again dodging the question. She knew it was imperative that she be honest in her dealings with Jack, but that didn't mean she had to share everything. "There have been very few people in my life that I've trusted completely."

"And the pilot's one of them?" the biotic said, skeptically.

"Yeah." Shepard's eyes drifted away as she thought about everything she and Joker had been through together over the past few years. "He is."

The cynical young woman regarded Shepard with hooded eyes. "People are users," she informed the commander, flatly. "They only care about themselves. They pretend to care about you to get what they want, and then they screw you over."

"Sometimes," Shepard agreed. "Maybe even a lot of the time. But not all the time." She held Jack's gaze. "For my part, I had no intention of going...well, returning...to my grave having spent my whole life alone. So, I decided that eventually, I had to trust somebody."

Shepard saw a flicker of doubt cross Jack's expression before it hardened again. "Maybe _you_ do," she replied, rising abruptly from her seat. "But not me. I'm just fine on my own." She stormed across the room and disappeared into the stairwell that led to her den in the bowels of the ship.

"Guess this means we won't be getting matching tattoos anytime soon," Shepard muttered under her breath as she gathered up Jack's dirty dishes and placed them in the rack. She knew that she was guilty of over-identifying with the young woman, and it was clouding her judgment. But she'd felt the same way that Jack did, once upon a time – until she'd met Anderson. And Garrus. And, of course, Joker. They'd shown her what it meant to be loyal. Dedicated. Honorable. Maybe she could be that person for Jack.

From across the room, her terminal pinged and, drying her hands on a towel, she crossed to it. It was a message from Joker.

_JM: Where are you?_

_SS: Crew deck, chatting with Jack. Trying to convince her that not all people are assholes._

_JM: It's not nice to lie to crazy people, Shepard._

_SS: Ha ha._

_JM: Well, I'm in your bed all alone, and I was prepared to do some of my best work tonight. If you don't hurry up, you're gonna miss it._

Shepard grinned. Having someone who noticed when you weren't there really wasn't so bad, at all.

_SS: Well, we can't have that. On my way._

_JM: I'll be waiting._

* * *

**A/N: **_Well, google docs said this was less than 1000 words, although FF seems to disagree. I don't have the patience to count, so I'm going with the more generous tally. Forgive me for the potential cheat._

_Once again, my gratitude goes to jay8008. He always reads and offers helpful suggestions, most of which I stubbornly ignore. But this time, he came up with my favorite line in the whole prompt, so - as much as it pains me - I have to give props where they're due. Muchas gracias!_


	23. Cover

**Cover**

Shepard watched helplessly as the geth dropship collapsed the pillar, blocking her path to the remaining quarian marines - and Tali.

Reegar's voice came over her radio. "Commander! There's demo charges in the nearby buildin's. You can use 'em to clear a path!"

Changing the radio channel, Shepard hailed the Normandy. "Joker, I need the coordinates for the locations of those charges uploaded to my omni-tool."

As she advanced with her team to meet the onslaught of geth forces headed their way, it was EDI who responded. "I have scanned the area and located the demolition charges. I will upload the information to your radar."

Shepard gestured for Miranda and Garrus to flank left, while Jack and Grunt circled right. Heading straight down the middle, she popped her head out from behind cover to pepper the nearest geth trooper with disruptor rounds. "Thank you, _Joker_."

Seconds later, the pilot remarked, "Sorry, Shepard. I was distracted for a moment there."

Miranda hit a Prime with an Overload, and Garrus finished it off with a sniper shot to the "head." Shepard took the opportunity to dart forward to the next concrete barrier. Safely ensconced, she retorted, "Oh, I'm sorry, Lieutenant. Are we disturbing you? We can just hang out here and wait until you're ready to proceed."

Joker's response was instantaneous. "No, ma'am. You have my full attention."

"How nice."

The mission progressed smoothly as they gathered the charges and fought their way to Reegar's position. Joker fed Shepard a steady stream of data - updates on the incoming geth forces, choke points to avoid in the terrain, and a rundown of Alliance-standard tactics for dealing with a Colossus - with none of his usual extraneous commentary. She and Garrus traversed the sniper's perch on the right, picking off targets; while Miranda blazed a path up the left, weakening them with Overload; and Jack and Grunt barrelled up the middle of the battlefield, toppling resistance with Shockwave and brute force. Once they were within range, the team provided cover fire as she unleashed the mighty M-920 Cain on the massive machine.

As the resulting explosion sent a blast of hot air filled with smoking debris wafting over them, Shepard glanced up and observed Garrus squinting at her through the haze of smoke as he huddled cautiously behind a stone pillar.

"Tactics," she drawled with a huge grin, mimicking his typically-droll demeanor as she patted the heavy weapon affectionately. "Who needs 'em?"

* * *

**A/N: **_So, I'm dodging my own artificially imposed word count limit by breaking this chapter into two parts. They both stand on their own, so it's not _really _cheating... or so I'm telling myself. _


	24. Formal

**Formal**

Shepard's summons came shortly after her return to the ship. "Joker, can I see you in Miranda's office, please?" Her voice was coolly formal, which did nothing to mitigate his foreboding.

"On my way." He engaged the autopilot and took the elevator down one floor. Arriving at his destination, he pressed the comm and said, "It's me." The door slid open and he stepped inside.

Shepard was sitting behind Miranda's desk as Joker came to parade rest on the other side.

"This is no longer an Alliance ship with official chain-of-command," she began without preamble, glancing up at him, "and although I'm still technically your boss, we both know that any threat concerning the security of your position here would be an empty one. But what I'm about to say is important, and I hope you'll take it seriously." Taking his silence for tacit agreement, she stood and paced as she continued.

"When I give _you _an order, I expect _you _to respond. Unless the Normandy is engaged in active combat, when my team is ashore, we're your top priority." She paused for effect. "Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good." Shepard scrutinized her pilot. He wasn't exactly exuding remorse, so she decided to wield the weighty dagger of guilt. "I rely on you, Jeff, and you let me down today."

Joker's posture stiffened, defensively. "May I interrupt this scolding for a moment?"

She nodded, warily.

"Okay. What _I'm _about to say is important, and I hope _you'll _take it seriously. When EDI responded to you earlier, it was because I was studying a schematic of the ruins, trying to plot a path that would keep you out of the direct sunlight and help you avoid becoming a crispy critter." He took a step forward, invading her space. "You may think that when you're groundside, I'm lounging in the cockpit, enjoying a cold beer, but I'm actually busy working _my_ ass off trying to keep _yours_ safe!"

The pilot was nearly bristling with righteous indignation, and although Shepard was realizing that perhaps she had badly misjudged the earlier situation, she found herself unwilling to back down. "I had no way of knowing..." she began, but Joker cut her off.

"No, but you just _assumed_ I screwed up - you didn't even ask for an explanation first. By now, you should know that I'm just as good at my job as you are at yours. And you are always my first priority. _Always._" With another step, he dared to jab a finger in her direction as he spat, "And if you don't know that, after all this time, then - with all due respect - you can go fuck yourself."

Shepard blinked in genuine disbelief. "_Excuse_ me?"

One more step, and she was trapped between him and the desk. "Did. I. Stutter?"

Nose to nose, they eyed each other for a long, silent moment - cheeks flushed, chests heaving - until Joker finally asked, "Are you as turned on as I am right now?"

Shepard's jaw dropped. "_What?_"

He cut his eyes to the bed in the back of the room as he braced his palms against the desk on either side of Shepard. "We could lock the door and," he paused, raising his eyebrows suggestively, "_defile_ every corner of this room. Can you imagine how skeeved out Miss Priss would be if she knew?"

Before Shepard's whirling brain could even begin to formulate a response to this unexpected proposition, Joker leaned in to kiss her. After a brief hesitation, her lips parted - to ravage his mouth or to call him an asshole, she hadn't yet decided. Without warning, the door swished open and Shepard jerked backwards in surprise, jostling the desk. A precariously stacked pile of datapads clattered to the floor as the scowling visage of the aforementioned Cerberus operative appeared in the doorway.

"Are you _quite_ finished in here?" Miranda inquired frostily, arching a disapproving eyebrow, as Shepard scrambled to clean up the mess.

"Actually, I was just getting started," Joker muttered as Shepard deposited the devices in a haphazard heap on top of the XO's desk and herded him toward the door.

"Sorry," she apologized to Miranda as they passed, nudging Joker in the side to hurry him along.

"Ow!" he complained, as they escaped into the hallway. "That was unnecessary," he added, rubbing his ribs, dramatically.

"How is it that I call you down here for a lecture, and I'm the one who ends up getting in trouble?" she asked in exasperation, deftly ignoring his griping.

He shrugged. "You can't stay mad at me. It's my innate charm." With one last incredulous glance in his direction, she walked away, shaking her head and muttering. Joker thought he caught the words "insufferable" and "deluded", but he couldn't be sure.

He looked back toward the room that they had just exited. Regarding him stonily from behind her desk, Miranda reached out and pushed a button. The door swooped shut in front of his face, it's sensor glowing red.

Of course, some women responded to his charm better than others.


	25. Ice

**Ice**

Shepard stood in the cockpit, her helmet under her arm, staring out the window at the snow-covered landscape of Alchera. She hadn't even left the ship, yet she was already trembling. She was preparing herself to view the Normandy SR-1's final resting place…and what should have been hers, as well. Every fiber of her being recoiled from the task, but there were other casualties whose bodies still remained down there. They deserved to be honored; their families deserved closure. She owed them that much.

Joker reached out and took her gloved hand in his. "Okay?" he murmured.

She tried to nod, but the gesture ended up being more side-to-side than up and down. Her body refused to convey the lie her mind was trying to tell.

The pilot regarded her, somberly. She was pale and shaking, a startling amount of white showing around the brilliant green of her irises. "You don't have to do this."

Shepard gazed through her faint reflection, contemplating the inhospitable ammonia atmosphere rotating below them. "Yes, I do," she replied, with quiet determination.

"I wish I could go with you." Actually, he wished that he could save her from having to take this journey to the planet's surface, the way he hadn't been able to the first time. He would have willingly taken her place now, just as he would have back then. But Vrolik's and ice were a potentially catastrophic combination, and his presence would be a hindrance rather than a help. "_As usual," _he thought, bitterly.

The regret in Joker's words caused her to withdraw from her inner turmoil and focus her attention on him. He looked as anxious as she felt, and she knew that he was reliving the memories along with her. She bent and pressed her lips to his, offering silent reassurance. His fingers tangled in her hair and gripped the back of her head, clutching her to him. When she broke the kiss, he held her face mere inches from his.

"I'll be with you the whole time," he whispered fiercely, pointing to her helmet, where the comm. resided. She nodded her understanding, and he released her, reluctantly. "Be careful."

"Aye, aye," she said with the shadow of a smile, before slipping out of the room. With a shuddering sigh, Joker faced forward and prepared to temporarily surrender Shepard to Alchera once more. But the planet couldn't keep her – not then, and not now. Because she belonged to him, and he had no plans to give her up.

Ever.


	26. Breathe

**Breathe**

Joker heard Shepard's footsteps approaching, but the smell reached him before she did.

"What the…? Why do you smell like you were at a cookout that went horribly wrong?" he asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Were you baking again? Didn't we talk about that?"

"Do I really smell _that _bad?" she inquired, coming to a stop beside his chair.

"No, no. Of course not. No," he replied, gazing up at her with mock innocence. "Well, actually...yes. Yes, you do. What the hell happened to your hair?" he demanded, regarding the ragged edges she held in her grimy grasp as she sniffed at them, experimentally.

"Um, there was a small fire."

"Shepard, I know you. There's no such thing as a 'small fire' where you're involved."

"Well, a refinery kind of blew up," she admitted.

"Aaaand...there it is. And during this tiny blaze, you decided that it would be a good idea to stick your head into the flames because...?"

"There were workers trapped inside. I couldn't just abandon them. But it wasn't my whole head that caught fire. Just the edges of my hair that were outside of my helmet. And only for a minute or two. Not very long, at all, really."

Shaking his head incredulously, Joker slouched back into the pilot's seat. "How reassuring. And how, pray tell, did this situation - shall we say - ignite?"

"You're going to have to ask Zaeed about that."

"Okay. Get him on the comm."

"I can't. He's no longer with us."

Joker pondered that briefly. "With 'us' - the living? Or 'us' - the crew of the Normandy?"

Shepard shrugged. "The second one."

"Right. Well, that's rather convenient for you."

"Not really. But we are one psychopath lighter now."

"One down, a dozen or so to go." He looked her over while trying to breathe through his mouth. She was covered in soot, and her hair looked like someone had taken hedge clippers to it. "Did it ever to occur to you to shower before you stop by for a visit? Or at least hose yourself down with a fire extinguisher?"

She pouted dramatically. "I thought you missed me when I was gone."

"I do. Terribly. But yet, I would bravely suffer through the extra 15 minutes it would take you to get cleaned up if it meant you'd smell a little less like the stuff stuck to the inside of my dad's grill."

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes and turning to go. He grabbed her arm and yanked her toward him, pulling her off balance. She yelped in surprise as she landed awkwardly against the chair's armrest. He leaned in and kissed her. She tasted ashy.

"Please try not to set yourself ablaze anymore," he said when they finally broke apart. He fondled a scorched strand of her hair. "I liked your hair. It was sexy. This look…not so much."

"It'll grow back," she assured him, gracing him with one more peck before she stood. "As for the rest, I make no promises."

* * *

Later that night, he entered Shepard's room, freezing as he caught sight of her. She had showered and was wearing her usual tank top and running shorts. But it was her new hairstyle that stopped him in his tracks – it was cut shorter in the back but angled longer in the front, with soft bangs that swept across one eye.

She eyed him expectantly. "Do you like it?"

"I love it." After an awkward moment of staring, Jeff cleared his throat. "Really. It looks...great." Shaking his head at himself, he thought, "_Real s__mooth, Moreau,"_ as he made his way down the stairs to the couch, where she sat with a relieved grin.

"Kasumi cut it for me. And I washed it twice to make sure the smell was gone." She leaned closer, and his nose filled with the familiar scent of coconut.

"You smell delicious. You look gorgeous. I take back everything I said before – you can set yourself on fire anytime you want."

"You moron," she laughed as he pounced upon her, making exaggerated sounds of unbridled lust. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he landed rapid-fire kisses along her skin and she giggled uncontrollably.

Eventually coming up for air, he rested his palm alongside her cheek. "You know that I wasn't really upset about your hair earlier, right?"

"Yeah," she smiled softly. "I know."

"I can deal with dinged-up armor or singed hair. But sometimes...sometimes..."

"I'm fine," she assured him. "I'm okay, Jeff."

"I need you to stay that way," he told her, earnestly.

"I'll be careful," she promised. He knew it was the best that she could do, under the circumstances. It wasn't in Shepard's nature to offer empty platitudes; although sometimes, he sincerely wished that she would.

"Do I want to know what the hell happened out there today?" he asked.

She considered the question, briefly. "No. Probably not."

Joker scowled and looked away from her eyes, his face tightening in sudden anger. "Fucking Zaeed," he muttered. "He did something to damn near get you killed, didn't he?"

"I don't really want to talk about Zaeed right now," she said in a sultry voice, moving to straddle his lap. The shorts rode up her thighs, showcasing an expanse of smoothly toned skin. Her lips found the sensitive skin of his throat; travelled up to nibble an earlobe. "Do you?"

He let his head loll against the back of the sofa. "Mmmm. Huh?" he managed, before her mouth covered his - soft, and sweet, and demanding his full attention, which he was all too happy to provide.

He'd been wrong before – it wasn't the stench that had stolen his breath away. It had been Shepard.

For better or worse, it had always been Shepard.

* * *

**A/N: **_Some banter, and unabashed fluff. _


	27. Laugh

**Laugh**

Shepard padded through the dimly lit CIC, clad only in a tank top, running shorts and fuzzy socks. The ship was on its night cycle, and the only sounds were the reassuring hum of the engines and murmured voices of the skeleton crew.

She'd been waiting for Jeff to come upstairs so that they could go to bed. She was somewhat ashamed to admit that she'd grown so accustomed to having him there that she now found it difficult to fall asleep without him. When hours had passed since the end of his shift, she'd begun to suspect that he'd fallen asleep in the cockpit. This had previously been a regular habit of his. But recently, the lure of her presence – or, more likely, the possibility of sex and the comfort of her private quarters – had been enough to tempt him away from his lair, and into hers. But not tonight, apparently.

She could have called him on the comm, or instructed EDI to wake him, but either tactic was likely to startle him, and she had no desire to do that. Like the rest of the crew, he'd been working hard and he was exhausted. The least that she could do was to fetch him in person.

Her stocking feet slid soundlessly along the smooth metal floors as she made her way across the bridge. The instruments provided the only illumination leaking from the dim cockpit, and as she drew closer, she could hear the soft strains of soothing music filling the room, causing her to wonder if he'd inadvertently lulled himself to sleep.

EDI's holographic globe silently winked into view. "Good evening, Commander," she intoned in an exaggerated whisper, causing Shepard to raise a quizzical eyebrow. Evidently someone had become sensitive to organic circadian rhythms. "Lt. Moreau seemed especially somnolent-"

"Especially what?" Shepard whispered back, a confused furrow appearing between her brows.

The globe blinked. "Perhaps '_drowsy'_ is a more casual term. I introduced a low-intensity audio composition that I thought would be relaxing."

"That's very thoughtful, EDI. I'll take it from here." Shepard shook her head in amusement - she and EDI were fussing over the pilot like two old ladies over a sleeping infant.

"Of course, Commander," the AI replied quietly, and quickly faded away.

Standing next to Jeff's chair, she glanced at the report that was open on his display. Rather than being a ship status report, like she'd expected, it was a recent study conducted on cutting-edge personal armor technology. She was initially confused about his interest in the subject, but then it struck her, and a wave of tenderness washed over her.

Joker never wore armor, but somebody that he cared about did - someone that he wanted to keep safe.

She finally turned her gaze to her pilot. He was sleeping soundly, head tilted to one side, cap askew on his head. It seemed that only in slumber did his brow relax and the lines around his mouth smooth. He was always so intense; so determined to prove his worth – to himself, if no one else. Certainly not to her – that goal had been accomplished long ago. One palm lay face up in his lap, fingers loosely furled, and for some reason, the pose aroused a fierce protectiveness in her.

And suddenly, she realized – she _loved _him. She didn't just care about him, or rely on him, or desire him. She loved him in a "_cannot live without him; kill anyone who dared to hurt him"_ kind of way. The thought was simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying.

Shepard had never been in love before. She had friends, and colleagues, and teammates – all people that she cared about, and trusted, but nothing like this. Not even close.

She reached out and gently stroked his scruffy cheek. He came awake slowly with a murmured, "Mmm." Blinking blearily, disoriented eyes eventually zeroed in on hers. "I fell asleep," he muttered, thickly.

"Yes, you did."

"Sorry." Joker searched her face, wondering if she was annoyed that she'd had to come looking for him. She didn't appear upset, but he couldn't quite interpret her expression, either.

"That's okay," she replied, gracing him with an affectionate smile. "But I missed you. The bed was cold and empty without you there."

His responding surprised grin warmed her heart. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, let's go, then." He lurched out of the chair and she corralled him with a supportive arm around his waist. In return, he draped an arm lightly over her shoulders, pulling her against his sleep-warmed form. They meandered through the CIC to the elevator while Joker teased her about her choice of footwear, and she snickered in response. He was the only person in the universe who could always make her laugh.

For his part, Joker relished that role in her life. Shepard wasn't naturally prone to silliness. Every smile and giggle he elicited was well-earned. In her presence, he finally lived up to his nickname.

Back in her quarters, he stripped down to his boxers, while she retained her clothing, including the much-maligned socks. Joker exuded heat like a furnace when he slept, but somehow, her feet always managed to remain cold. They spooned beneath the covers, the back of her body pulled snugly against his front, his arm wrapped possessively around her middle. She knew from experience that they wouldn't make it through the night this way – Joker would end up sprawled on his back, arm flung out, snoring softly. But for now, she burrowed further into his embrace as he kissed her shoulder, sighing contentedly.

"_I love him," _she thought again. Only now, lying in his arms, she realized that the notion retained none of its previous foreboding.

Instead, it brought only peace.

* * *

**A/N: **_So, I would just like to go on record as saying that my beta's original response to this chapter was, and I quote - "I don't think I'd change a word. It's great."_

_Of course, he proceeded to change way more than a word, but he said it, so it still counts, right? Near perfection!_

_The reason I'm blathering on is that I have not remotely written these prompts in chronological order. This particular chapter was one of the first that I wrote. It completes the "Shep falling in love" story arc. And it remains one of my favorites, despite its extreme mushiness. I hope you'll agree._

_I will be posting a separate story called "Justice" along with this chapter. It's too long to be a prompt, but in my mind, it would occur sometime shortly after this. It features Shep being badass - and is basically a spin-off of my spin-off. Dear lord, I need help._

_As always, thanks for reading!_


	28. Lies

**Lies**

Joker sat in the cockpit, mentally kicking his own ass. If there was a competition for who could go from hero to chump in the shortest amount of time, he would have taken the blue ribbon today.

Things had started out so well. From the very beginning, he'd had his suspicions about the Collector ship. It'd been obvious that there was no way that a turian patrol could have disabled a ship of that size. When EDI had run the scan and determined that it was the same vessel that had been on Horizon, he'd indulged his hunch and had her check it against the signature of the ship that had destroyed the Normandy. The result had caused icy fingers of fear to crawl up his spine. The whole thing had smelled as rotten as krogan feet.

"I'm not losing another Normandy!" The recollection of speaking those words aloud caused him to cringe in shame. When the Collector vessel had begun powering up and the weapons systems had started coming back online, he'd been worried about losing something, but it hadn't been the damn Normandy. Yet, when he'd opened his mouth to warn Shepard, that had been the sentiment that had spilled out - the equivalent of verbal vomit.

"Hi."

Joker jumped, startled. He'd been so lost in self-recrimination that he hadn't heard Shepard's approach. She bussed his cheek, a quick brush of her lips against his beard, and then sank wearily into the copilot's seat. He knew that she'd had a blowout with the Illusive Man upon her return to the ship, for all the good that it had done. Her already strained relationship with the boss was now just a notch or two above hostile.

"Hey," he replied. "Listen, Shepard, about today…"

"Oh, yeah, good catch on ID'ing the ship. Heads-up work," she said around her hand, stifling a yawn as she slid into a lazy slouch. "God, it feels good to sit down. It's not easy to sprint in fifty pounds of armor," she griped, good-naturedly. "I'm getting too old for this shit."

He regarded her, skeptically. Was she really unperturbed by his callous remarks? "Thanks. But that wasn't what I wanted to talk about."

She turned her head towards him, eyebrows rising in curiosity, "Okay. Hit me."

Her expression was so open and unguarded that he had to look away. Gazing out the windshield, he said, "I feel like an asshole for what I implied today - that I would leave you and the team behind to save the Normandy. I hope you know that I would never do that. Not after you came back for me. And especially not now that we're, you know…" He cleared his throat. "I would _never_," he repeated, vehemently.

"Jeff," she said, softly, and he cautiously slid his eyes in her direction. "Of course I know that. How many times have you ridden...or, more precisely, flown...to my rescue? Do you think that I really believed that you were going to abandon us?" She chuckled. "I figured you were doing the pilot's version of a drill sergeant's motivational speech. _'Listen up, you slugs! Hustle it up or I'll leave your sorry asses behind!'_" she growled in her best chain-smoker rasp, expression contorted into a mask of stern disapproval.

He shook his head, not willing to absolve himself so easily, even in the face of her easy humor. "I just…once we got the match on the signatures, and the ship started to activate, it was all too deja-fucking-vu." _And I freaked out, thinking about losing you to them. Again. _

But the words never reached his lips. It wasn't so much that he was afraid to tell her the truth. It was more that speaking the words out loud felt too much like tempting fate; like admitting that the worst thing he could imagine might actually happen.

Growing serious, Shepard regarded him silently for a long time, her gaze affectionate. Finally, she slowly stood, and leaned over his chair. "I know," she whispered, a slight smile blossoming on her lips even as she touched them to his in a soft, lingering kiss.

And in that moment, he realized that she'd understood what he'd been unable to say all along.

"I'm going to bed," she said pointedly as she departed, her hand trailing across his shoulder invitingly. "Wake me when you come in, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Joker replied with a relieved grin, his guilt rapidly dissipating as he turned back to the controls.

There were lies you spoke out loud, and lies you told with silence.

Luckily, when someone knew you well enough, they didn't believe either one.


	29. Run

**Run**

Shepard pulled her heels to her butt, stretching her quads, before hopping onto the treadmill. It was 0500 hours, and she was the only one in the SR-2's gym. She'd only gotten about four hours of sleep the previous night, and her eyes stung with fatigue. But she'd been unable to quiet her restless thoughts, so she'd come down here to see if maybe she could outrun them.

"_Maybe we should just go back to the way things were."_ The words Joker had spoken to her in the med bay last night kept echoing through her brain. The stupid thing was, she hadn't seen it coming - although she probably should have. He'd been angry at her in the mess hall that day, and she'd been beyond furious with him last night after that scene in Afterlife. But she and Joker fought – they always had, and she'd expected that they always would. They were both stubborn, and irascible. But she _loved _him, goddammit - and she knew that he loved her. She'd naively hoped that it might be enough.

She jabbed angrily at the machine's button and quickened her pace from a jog to a lope. People always left her, starting with her own mother. She supposed that when the woman who'd birthed you subsequently abandoned you, that probably didn't bode well for your future relationships. When she'd been young, she'd struggled to comprehend what it was about her that caused others to reject her so thoroughly. She'd never figured it out, and as she'd gotten older, she'd given up trying. She seemed to have a magnetism that drew people in and, with an equally polarizing force, eventually pushed them away. She'd finally just accepted it and moved on.

But she'd allowed herself to hope that this thing with Joker could be different. After all, he'd been with her for a long time...long enough to be aware of her many foibles and flaws. Then again, she'd been the one who'd pursued a relationship with him. Her face burned with humiliation as she thought about it. Maybe, despite his attraction to her, he hadn't wanted to become romantically involved. Maybe she'd pressured him into an emotional entanglement against his will.

Maybe she was a fucking idiot.

She increased her speed to an all-out sprint, lungs heaving as she ran. Tears of anger and remorse mingled with the sweat on her cheeks, but she barely noticed. She ran until her legs began to tremble with exhaustion before slowing her pace. She decelerated to a walk, and then a stop, finally stepping off of the machine and wiping her face with a towel. She needed to put this personal crap behind her. She had a job to do, and lives depended on her. They probably weren't coming back from the Omega-4 relay, but she was obliged to make sure that they tried – if not for her own sake, then for the sake of her crew. She needed to get her head on straight and keep marching forward, the same way that she always had.

Alone.


	30. Overwhelmed

**Overwhelmed**

"Since when is Miranda in charge?" Garrus muttered, startling Shepard out of her reverie as he settled onto the bench next to her with a clatter of armor. She'd been marginally aware that while she'd been gazing distractedly out the shuttle window, the Cerberus operative had been barking orders, but she hadn't really been paying attention. Glancing around at the rest of her team, it didn't appear that many of them had been listening, either.

"Let it go, Garrus," she warned.

"You need to get your head in the game," he continued, ignoring her empty threat. "You've been somewhere else lately."

"I haven't been sleeping well," she offered, lamely. The truth was, she hadn't been sleeping, at all. She'd been working insanely long shifts, and would reach her cabin too exhausted to move. But after falling into bed, she'd end up staring out the skylight for hours - eyes gritty and burning, but refusing to close. The bed was too big, too cold...too empty.

"Right." She heard the skepticism in the turian's voice, but before he could continue, Miranda said, "Commander. We have an incoming emergency transmission from EDI."

"Put it on speaker."

"Shepard?"

"I'm here, EDI. What's going on?"

"Shepard, the Normandy was attacked and invaded by the Collectors. The crew has been taken."

"Taken? What do you mean, 'taken?' Taken where?" Her pulse began hammering in her ears.

"I do not know."

"Everyone?" she asked, but what she was really thinking was, _Jeff?_ But if he was still there, why wasn't he the one speaking to her right now?

"Mr. Moreau is still onboard," the AI replied, and a strangled sound escaped Shepard's throat, causing her companions to exchange nervous glances. "But he's not responding to my inquiries."

_Oh, god. Hurt? Worse? _She banged on the shuttle's cockpit door and demanded of the pilot, "Take us back to the Normandy! Now!" To EDI, she said, "Just hang on, EDI. We're on the way."

* * *

Shepard raced frantically through the battle-ravaged Normandy, trying not to envision the events that had recently unfolded there. Arriving in the cockpit and finding it empty, she skidded to a sudden stop.

"EDI! I thought you said Joker was still onboard!"

"He is, Shepard," EDI responded in her infuriatingly calm tone. "Mr. Moreau is down on the engineering deck."

_Goddammit! _Retracing her steps at a sprint, she pounded through the stairwell and burst onto deck three to find Tali huddled over the access panel for the doors housing the drive core, while Miranda and Jacob anxiously hovered nearby. "We're locked out," the quarian informed Shepard in frustration.

"Jeff? Are you in there?" Shepard called, pounding furiously on the metal hatch. "EDI! Get this door open! Now!" After what seemed like an eternity, the doors slid open and Shepard bolted through. Almost immediately, she spotted Joker's inert form, lying on the ground.

"Oh, no," she whispered, kneeling by his side. Yanking off her gloves, she pressed her fingers to his neck - his pulse was erratic, but strong. Clinically, she ran her hands over his body, finding no obvious wounds. Placing a trembling palm against his cheek, she called his name again, softer this time. "Jeff? Jeff, can you hear me?"

Finally, his eyes slowly blinked open. "Are you okay?" she asked, gently.

"Yes. No. What the hell?" His disoriented gaze met hers, then widened in realization. "Oh, shit!"

She helped him struggle upright as Miranda immediately launched into a diatribe.

"Everyone? You lost everyone? And you damned near lost the ship, too?"

"I know, all right? I was here." Shepard could clearly hear the misery and guilt in Jeff's voice, underlying the defensiveness.

Miranda continued ranting until Shepard snapped, ""Back off, Miranda! Everyone out." She'd had enough of the bickering, and she didn't think that she was going to be able to hold her emotions in check much longer. She didn't need numerous witnesses to her imminent meltdown.

Once the others had gone, Shepard reached for Jeff's cap, which had apparently been dislodged when he'd fallen. As she placed it on his head, her fingertips grazed his brow, and the bubble of fear and adrenaline that had overwhelmed her since EDI's summons burst. Tears began to spill down her cheeks.

"Hey," he said, taking her shaking hand in his. "It's okay."

She shuddered and glanced away, fighting for control, as Jeff eyed her with concern. Her reaction was unprofessional, and unfair, considering that she was putting an injured subordinate in the position of having to console _her_. That wasn't his responsibility...especially not the way things stood between them now.

She opened her mouth to apologize, to say that she was fine, but what came out instead was, "I don't want you to die."

Jeff gave her a weak smile. "I don't want you to die, either, Shep. Once was enough."

Suddenly, they were talking over each other - rambling explanations of the events of the past weeks, both of them confused and contrite when they realized that the demise of their romance had been due largely to a series of misunderstandings.

"I'm sorry," he was saying now, stroking her knuckles with his supple fingers, sending an inappropriate thrill through her body, despite the circumstances. "I'm so damn sorry."

She believed him. And although she felt a surge of hope at the idea that their relationship might yet be salvaged, she simultaneously remembered that - misunderstanding or not - he had stood in the med bay that night and stated, unequivocally, that he didn't want her anymore.

He'd broken her heart. And while she could forgive, she wasn't sure she could forget. Not quite yet, anyway.

So what she said was, "I'm sorry, too. But right now, we need to focus on getting our people back."

She saw clearly on his face that this was not the response he'd desired. She leaned in and pressed her lips to his - a non-verbal expression of absolution. When she withdrew, he looked somewhat appeased.

"Can you fly?" she inquired as she helped him climb laboriously to his feet. She hated asking - knew that he must be hurting - but she needed him. They all did.

He didn't disappoint. "Whenever you're ready, Commander," he replied, his customary cocky grin sliding into place over a grimace of pain.

"Good," she declared, wrapping an arm around his waist for support as she led him to the elevator. "'Cause we have a crew to rescue."


End file.
